Tainted Ideals
by Stormedge
Summary: In the fire that ravaged Fuyuki city, it was not Emiya Kiritsugu who saved the life of a young Shirou, but the tainted grail itself.
1. Beginning

**Disclaimer: My name isn't Nasu. Thus, I don't own F/SN, Tsukihime or any official Type-Moon work.**

**A/N: This is just a fic I pumped out to clear my head a little. I intend to continue it and reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially if they help me iron out the flaws.**

**First things first though. There will be spoilers. To all routes and then some. There'll be some Tsukihime spoilers as well. Just a warning.**

* * *

><p>Hot. That was all the boy could think as he stumbled through the burning city. It was so very hot. There wasn't any pain, any torturous agony. Just that constant, constant heat, pressing down on him like a lead weight.<p>

In some small, fragmented part of his mind, he realised that he should be feeling sad right now. He'd lost his home, his family and even his name. But it didn't seem important. What was important was finding somewhere cool, somewhere where the heat wasn't quite so intense, where he could rest.

He walked on, ignoring the screams and cries for help that resounded around him. He couldn't help them. He couldn't even find the drive to try.

* * *

><p>Pain. That was all the spirit inside of the fragments Holy Grail could think as the city burned down around them. That wasn't unusual though. All the dark spirit had ever felt was pain, right from its creation, so very long ago, in that small, muddy village…<p>

Well, pain and hate. Hate was its constant companion.

Slowly, ever so slowly, other thoughts began to reach through to the mind of the spirit. It was dying, fading away back to the place its own spite had created. Without a human to contract to, or a wish made, the Holy Grail could not exist on this world. This seemed so horribly unfair, both to the dark spirit and the essence of the grail itself. The spirit wanted to live. The Grail wanted to grant a wish. And they were being denied, by the will of a single human, who'd forced his Servant into shattering the Holy Grail, right in its moment of triumph. With a command spell that it had given him, the spirit noted, just for that extra irony.

For a moment, a terrible rage ran through it. Again…! Again, it was to be consigned to its own torment! The thought of returning to that dark place, where it could only feel the misery that humans had forced on it, filled it with a new, unfamiliar feeling. Fear.

It paused at that. To feel fear was to not want something to happen. To not want something to happen was to want something else to happen. To want something to happen was hope. Hope. It hadn't 'hoped' for a long time. It hadn't even realised it was still capable of doing such. Was there still something left of that boy, who so very long ago, had been chosen to become the Source of All Evils?

_I_… _Do I still wish to truly live? To return to the days of life from before? _The thought was a terrifying one. To have something beyond pain, rage or hate? It could not even imagine such a thing. No. It would not allow itself to even try. It bore enough sorrows as it was, and it would not allow those created by crushed hopes to join them. There was no way for it to survive as it was; No living thing that could accept it was nearby. The magus who ordered its execution had left without a backwards glance and the other, the golden one who had drained much of its power, had taken another magus and gone too. All that was left was broken shards and black mud.

Or rather, that was all there should be.

A small figure stumbled from the burning wreckage surrounding the remnants of the Grail. A boy, his skin scorched, his clothes little more than burnt strips as he trudged through the smoke. His eyes were unfocused, and his will little more than a drive to survive. No, more than a drive.

A wish.

* * *

><p>The piece of debris under his foot slipped, and he fell, tumbling down to the earth. For a brief moment, a sharp pain forced itself through his already screaming nerves and restored some of his thoughts. Where was he? He looked around him. The area was little more than a crater, within it only a few tiny fragments of gold and puddles of black mud. His eyes strayed to the mud. It looked so cool, so very refreshing. A trembling hand reached out towards it and he realised with a dull surprise that it was his own. He didn't care though, and the strange disconnect between his mind and body didn't worry him. That was just how things were.<p>

His fingers dipped into the viscous liquid. And he screamed as a wave of emotions, feelings, thoughts and dreams swept into him like a black wave. The heat was gone, but in its place was terrible suffering, enough to sunder a soul. And a voice.

_Accept our contract! _The spirit all but screamed at him. The boy was so very fragile, so very weak from his time in the flames that it tortured him to watch him. This was his chance, his only hope, his one method! The boy would not die! He would not allow it! But to truly heal him, a contract had to be established, so as to allow the prana to flow. Desperation fuelled him like never before. This was not the way he had intended, but to exist in the world was his wish. He would not be cheated, sent back to that foul place with yet another regret, yet another curse, by a foolish little child expiring too soon!

It took a moment for the spirit to realise that he was referring to himself as an gender. An individual. A person. It seemed like the boys mind was already beginning to affect it. A good sign.

Shirou heard the voice, heard its screams. It sounded so very similar to himself. That same desire to live, that same will to survive. In all the world at that very moment, there were probably not two people who wanted the same thing so very much.

"I…" The words were little more than croaks, forced out through cracked lips. "I want to live."

The Holy Grail, the great device created to grant the wishes of others, roared in triumph, a sound echoed by the spirit within. Black mud rose up around the boy, wrapping him within a cocoon, dark as night. Once again the pain assailed him, but this time, it was not so horrible. It was familiar, more than anything else. It was like he'd been bearing it for some time.

The spirit, Avenger, felt the two of them beginning to merge. Normally, such a process would take time, but the boys ego was little more than a fragment, unformed and malleable. Indeed, the boys lack of any true personality was almost a defence against the hate ingrained within the filth. Rather than fighting it, almost certainly futilely, he could accept it. With a little bolstering from Avenger, the boys psyche could survive this with no more damage than had already occurred from the fire outside.

The corrupted mud spilled into the boys wounds, forcing blistered flesh to close and scrapes and scars to fade. His circuits were not prepared for such a thing however and strained, trying desperately to keep up with the rush of injected power. An impossible task of course. No mere human, not even a trained magus, could ever hope to match the power of the Grail. Not without assistance. Avenger surveyed the boys body. For a boy from an unremarkable bloodline, the boy -Shirou, he corrected himself.- had a remarkable number of circuits. But to even have a hope of surviving the merge, he would need to have them all open. So Avenger did so.

Shirou's daze was broken by a pain far closer to home than that which surrounded him. His body was pierced by a thousand knives, each sliding into his flesh with sickening cruelty. He blanked out, only to be forced back into consciousness. He couldn't black out, not now. If he did, then the mud would overwhelm him, and Avenger would be caught within a body that could not move, feel or even think. It would be no more than exchanging one prison for another.

Eventually, the pain began to subside and Shirou's taught muscles relaxed. Which made it the perfect time to complete the final step. Golden shards pierced into the worst of his wounds, where the fire had burnt through the flesh, damaging the organs within. Once again, the boy screamed, but it seemed that he'd gained a slightly higher pain threshold, because Avenger was not forced to keep him awake.

Gold began to shift, taking on the form of flesh, similar, yet different to the form it had had but a short time ago. Irisviel had been the previous Holy Grail, or the bearer of it anyway. But merely reverting the form of the grail back to her flesh wouldn't do. Shirou was a male human, and Irisviel was a female homunculus, created through alchemy. They were incompatible. Luckily, the Grail was excellent at copying things. It had more than enough of Shirou's flesh and blood to be able to replicate and transform itself into the parts of him that the fire had destroyed.

It took only a moment, and Shirou was once again complete, his flesh unmarred. On the surface, nothing had changed from the boy who had no doubt been frolicking around less than an hour ago. But there were differences. The Grail had replaced much of his flesh, and while incomplete, the boy was a bearer of the Holy Grail.

Well, not quite. He was missing one key part to be a true Lesser Grail such as Irisviel had been, but that was fine. Avenger's wish had been fulfilled, as had Shirou's. Both the essence of the Grail and the spirit which resided within it were satisfied. Or rather, the spirit which_ had _resided within it.

* * *

><p>Shirou stood, feeling strangely shaky. It wasn't the shake of exhaustion and pain that the fire had forced on him, but rather the unwieldy feeling of his body being subtly different. For one thing, even with the fire raging around him he felt comfortable, as if there was a buffer between himself and the heat. Had he blacked out? The last few hours were nothing more than a daze.<p>

He took a step forward and his leg supported his weight with ease. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he felt more alive than he had in, well, the last half hour. He looked around the flames surrounding him. While he had no idea which way was which, the flames had to have a limit. All he had to do was walk in one direction and he'd reach the end, wouldn't he?

He took off a jog, moving nimbly over the debris.

As it turned out, it hadn't taken very long to escape the flames at all. It had been no more than ten minutes till the flames had died down around him, and he'd tasted fresh air. He stopped, taking in a deep breath. While the smell of burning was still thick in the air, it was still cool and refreshing. He sat down, relishing in the feel of the concrete beneath him. And then a thought struck him, one long neglected in the escape. _Who am I?_

His name was Shirou. He knew that much. But his family name, his home and even the faces of his family escaped him. He tried to recall his life, place names to memories, only to find he had none of those either. For a moment, he paused. He knew he should feel sad about this. Perhaps even cry about it. He'd lost everything. But he honestly couldn't bring himself to feel too strongly about it. He couldn't bring himself to feel too strongly about much, actually.

"Hey! We've got a kid over here! Bring some water!"

He turned at the voice, looking at the man who'd suddenly appeared from his left. He was wearing an odd suit, dark grey, with bright yellow stripes on it. A fire-fighters suit, he realised. He wondered where he'd seen it before.

"You alright, kid?" The man leaned in towards him, concern obvious on his face, even in the dim light.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Shirou," he replied. The older man waited for a continuation, but he shook his head. "That's it."

The man's face was understanding as he nodded. "Gotcha. Hey, Shirou, we're moving all the other kids to a tent where you'll be safe till we find your parents. Do you want to go there with me?"

Shirou considered the offer. He vaguely recalled being told to never go anywhere with strangers, but that seemed less than important, given the circumstances. What were the odds of this guy being some kind of creep, just waiting around in case children happened to stumble his way through the fire? No, in all honesty, this man was almost certainly nothing more than what he appeared. A well-meaning individual. And he was quite curious as to what his parents were like. He nodded and the man took his hand.

* * *

><p>The tent had emptied considerably since his arrival. There'd been very nearly four dozen children when he'd first arrived. Then there were less than ten. Then there were five. Then just him. Parents and family members had come by one by one for the last few hours. There'd been tears of joy at reunions, children both crying and laughing at the same time. It was probably quite heartwarming.<p>

He sat, staring at the tent flap. Occasionally, one of the staff would come and give him a cup of hot chocolate and some comforting words, telling him that they were sure that his parents were fine, and that they'd be here soon. He wondered why they bothered. His parent's were almost certainly dead. Why raise false hopes? A kind cruelty? Or perhaps they just didn't have the strength to tell him that his parents were gone?

He'd overheard more than one hurried conversation. Apparently, there were more tents, just like this one. They'd been moving children that it was believed had lost their parents to a single tent, so as to help keep the situation organised and under control. No doubt he was going to be transferred there soon.

The flap swung open, and he looked up resignedly. Counter to his expectations, the man standing there was not one the staff come back to tell him of his fate. Instead, it was an incredibly tall man, arrayed in the robes of a priest. His eyes were sunken deep into his face, and were empty, as if life itself had been squeezed from the man. Shirou felt an immediate kinship with the him. The man looked like Shirou felt.

The priest looked down at him, his eyes surveying the young boy. Shirou met his gaze. No doubt most would consider the man intimidating, but to be intimidated, you had to have something you feared to lose. He had nothing like that. And neither, he realised, did the man in front of him.

A few moments passed and the priest nodded, as it satisfied.

"You're parents are likely dead."

Shirou blinked. It was a blunt, absolute admission, spoken as if the the man was talking about the weather.

"I know," He replied. "What happens now?"

The man watched him carefully for a second, then continued. If he was surprised by the equal nonchalance of the reply, he gave no sign.

"That is up to you. You can wait here if you wish, then be taken to another tent, where you will eventually be either adopted, or sent to a orphanage." The man shrugged. "If you wish, however, you may come with me."

Shirou thought about that. Both options led to unknown results. Neither the priest or the home were any more certain an option. But the priest was like him, he realised. Both of them were empty. Broken. They weren't anything like kindred spirits. But they could understand each other somewhat.

"I'll go with you." he responded, meeting the eyes of the priest once more.

The man nodded, accepting the answer. "Your name?"

"Shirou. Just Shirou." Again, his response was that accepting nod.

"Do you wish to keep that name?"

A good question. On one hand, the name was a link to a past he could neither remember, or care about. On the other, it was the only thing he still possessed. In a strange way, it seemed important to keep it. He made an affirmative gesture.

"Very well." The priest opened the flap of the tent and gestured that he should leave. "I am Kotomine Kirei. You appear to be in healthy condition, so I will complete the necessary paperwork to remove you from this camp."

He walked out into the rough encampment that had been made, his gaze flicking around the hurrying workers. His eyes stopped on the man waiting just outside the tent. His hair was a vivid gold and fierce red eyes shone out of his visage. A bored expression was plastered on his face, and he picked at the sleeve of his finely made coat with annoyance. He looked up as Shirou walked through the flap.

"So who's this little brat then?" It took Shirou a second to realise that the question was not aimed at him, but at the man behind him.

He turned, just as an amused smirk crossed Kotomine's face.

"He is your little brother, Gilgamesh. Be nice to him."

"What." Gilgamesh said flatly, staring down at the young boy. He was so small and insignificant that it pained him to watch the runt.

Shirou stared at him, meeting the crimson gaze with the same ease that he'd met Kotomine. "It is nice to meet you, Onii-san." He bowed, as he'd been taught… sometime ago. He couldn't remember where he'd learnt it, but that was hardly a surprise at this point.

Gilgamesh sighed resignedly at the introduction, rubbing his face wearily. "Is picking up this boy another of you whims?"

"You shouldn't refer to him as 'boy', Gilgamesh. He is your little brother after all." Kotomine chided, the smirk grown only wider. "The correct term is Otouto-san. Or -kun, if you feel you're close enough."

The golden haired man growled at that, his irritation obvious. "I wonder if I should have left you back at the ruins. It would certainly spare my royal ears this nonsense."

They bickered slightly, an edge of an actual slight threat in every word they said. Shirou watched them with curiosity. At the very least, it appeared that life with them would be interesting.

-End-


	2. Bedrock

A/N: So yeah, next chapter. It came out a fair bit faster than I thought it would, but there you go.

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><p>The boy was interesting. From Kotomine, a man who had found very nearly everything in life to be perpetually dull, that was the highest compliment he could give.<p>

Shirou had adapted well to his new circumstances, accepting everything with a reserved, quiet manner. He ate his meals quietly, he bid Kotomine and Gilgamesh good morning and good night politely and he did his share of tidying up.

But his most interesting trait was his curiosity. It was hardly unusual for a child to be curious, but Shirou's was a little different from the vibrant, excited questions that another child might have. He was more… analytical. He would poke things, and prod them, and test how far they could bend before breaking. He'd dug up some flowers in the church's courtyard and moved them to another, more shaded environment. And then he'd kept notes on the growth of each, the flowers he'd left and the ones he'd moved. When Kotomine had informed him that plants need of sunlight was common knowledge, he'd nodded and said:

"I know. But I wanted to see it for myself."

If anything, that was the young boys defining trait: A need to see and feel new experiences. He avoided things that could prove harmful to him, but was eager to try new things and experiment with those around him. For Kotomine, a man who had who had spent most of life seeking something that actually fulfilled him, the sight was incredibly familiar. A purposeless existence would naturally seek a purpose. That was just the way of humanity.

More important than any of his personality quirks however, was the boys ignorance of what he truly was. He seemed utterly unaware of the Grail fragments within him, and even of magecraft or the Grail in general. Kotomine was torn between enlightening him, and leaving him be. On one hand, watching the growth of a Lesser Grail bearer in a natural environment was quite fascinating. On the other, without at least an awareness of the existence of mage craft, it was quite possible that the boy would never awaken. Which would be profoundly unsatisfying.

Eventually, he came to a conclusion.

* * *

><p>"Do you know," Kotomine began. "That I am a magus?"<p>

Shirou looked up at him for a moment from the table he'd been cleaning, then shook his head. He put down the cloth. He suspected that this conversation was rather more important than washing a few crumbs off of a table.

Kotomine told him everything. The existence of magi, the magic association of London, True Magic, the Holy Grail war and it's effects on Fuyuki. He explained how in the last battle, a magus had chosen to reject the Grail and had shattered it. The raw, unconstrained power had burst across Fuyuki, casting the city into flames.

Well, very nearly everything. The priest left out the part about Shirou's survival. Some things were best left to develop on their own.

Shirou was quiet. None of the revelations were as surprising as he thought they should be. Kotomine had always been a dark, mysterious presence, so the idea of him being a magus seemed almost fitting in his mind. Although he wasn't sure if priests were supposed to have magic powers. In fact, he was fairly sure that they weren't. Once he accepted that his father was a magus, the idea of a governing body of magi wasn't so foreign a concept either. The Holy Grail war, though, was far more exotic.

He'd never even considered such a thing. How could he have? It was so far removed from common sense or reality. He knew that he should despise the very idea of it. It had been directly responsible for claiming his previous life and the lives of so many others. But it sounded so _interesting_. A war raged with Heroic Spirits, champions from a past era, against a half-dozen other magi? What would such a thing look like? Was the destruction cause in the Fuyuki fire typical of such a clash? Or considered extreme even for that battle?

Eventually, after nearly a full minute of thought, Shirou looked up at the priest. "I'd would've liked to see it. The entire war, I mean. Will there be another?"

Secretly, Kotomine felt a deep amusement. What would be the result of introducing an unbound Grail into the Grail War? The sheer chaos would be a pleasure to watch by itself. And if Shirou won? If the shards of the previous Grail, paradoxically, wished upon the new? That would be a sight to see. But he hid his smile with the ease of a practiced dissembler.

"Do you wish to compete?" He asked, staring down at Shirou. "If you do, then be aware your life will be on the line. More than that, you will no doubt be forced to kill others." A small, twisted smile snuck onto his lips. "This is the Holy Grail _War_, after all."

Shirou paused at that. Join the War? What would he do with a wish anyway? Would he be willing to kill another for it? It was yet another alien concept. He knew, on an intellectual level, that killing was wrong. That didn't mean he couldn't see himself doing it though, not if circumstances demanded it. Eventually, he nodded again.

"Then you will need to be prepared." Kotomine turned on his heel, walking away. "From now on, I will be instructing you in magecraft, as well as other skills you will no doubt need to have a chance at surviving."

Shirou nodded again, excitement filling him like it hadn't since, well, anytime he could remember. A whole new world had just opened ahead of him and he found himself intensely curious as to what it offered.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, what it mainly offered was disappointment.<p>

Kotomine Shirou was, quite frankly, incompetent at magecraft. Spells fizzled under his hand, and he seemed incapable of holding together his Od for long enough to create most forms of spells.

Kotomine rubbed his head in rare frustration. There was nothing wrong with the boys circuits; which were all open and in perfect shape. Likewise, Shirou was certainly concentrating hard enough. It was just that his circuits seemingly refused to hold together any kind of spell.

Right now, Shirou was trying to reinforce an iron bar and failing miserably. Gilgamesh was looking on, seated on a throne that he had conjured from seemingly nowhere. Unusually for the Servant, he was looking on the scene with some mild interest as opposed to the barbed comments he'd been shooting Shirou's way since the practice had begun. This interested silence broke when Shirou yet again failed to create any change in the bar.

"Well, brat, you've successfully impressed me. I don't think I've seen anyone fail quite this hard since…" The King of Heroes paused, considering. "Well, ever actually. Congratulations."

"If you can do so much better, then why don't you help me?" Shirou snapped, glaring up at the Golden King. Kotomine raised an eyebrow at Shirou dropping his façade of politeness. It was an unusual sight.

Gilgamesh grinned, baring his teeth. "Hmph. If only to show you the magnificence of the King's wisdom, I'll deign to lend you some small aid."

He clicked his fingers, and an oaken club shot down towards Shirou, bouncing off the floor and rolling to a stop by the young boy's feet.

"Try it again with that, brat." Gilgamesh commanded, gesturing at the club.

Shirou picked it up curiously, examining it. It appeared to be no more than a piece of wood, roughly shaped into a cudgel. Certainly not one of the Noble Phantasms that his adoptive father had spoken of. But he began the process of analysis as he'd been instructed regardless. As aggravating as his 'older brother' was, the golden haired bastard was far more knowledgeable than he let on, especially in more arcane and bizzare areas.

"Analysis start."

The oak club burst into life.

He felt knowledge and understanding forcing itself into his brain like a knife. Numerous internal cracks were present, unnoticeable from the outside, but wearing away at the integrity of the weapon. It had flaws in the grain of the wood as well, some natural, other the result of warping. Apart from that-

He broke the analysis with a gasp, his breath having been held throughout the rush of information. He breathed in and out, staring at the wooden rod with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. In that brief moment of understanding, he had come to know almost everything about the thing.

"As expected," Gilgamesh nodded, seemingly satisfied with the result. "The heart of the matter was plainly obvious for a King."

"What was that?" Shirou asked, his gaze alternating between Gilgamesh and the club.

"That, boy, was you finally taking your first steps as a magus." Gilgamesh's voice was smug as he continued. "You'd been wasting your time trying to work with things like the five elements or reinforcing iron. It appears your Origin is a much more esoteric one. How like a brat to be troublesome."

"I see…" Kotomine said thoughtfully. In truth, he should have seen it himself. If the Grail itself had forced Shirou's circuits open and healed his body then it was quite possible that his Origin had been warped by the event. "In that case, your regime will have to adjust to meet this."

Shirou ignored them, his interest entirely held with his newfound gift. He looked down at his arm curiously. If he could see through a branch of wood then maybe…

"Analysis start."

He could feel it. The blood within his veins, the muscles clenching and unclenching, the thrum of power in his nerves and the very life itself within his flesh. More than that, he could see where it could be improved, where it could be altered, where it could be changed.

A smile forced itself onto his lips. He'd have to thank Gil for the help. Quietly though. The last thing his brother needed was another ego boost.

* * *

><p>After a little additional experimentation, they'd named his Origin 'Flesh'. It appeared that he could only manipulate or work with anything that was either alive or, for decreased effectiveness, had been alive. For obvious reasons, Kotomine had suggested that he didn't try experimenting on himself.<p>

To thus increase the number and range of test subjects for his mage craft, he decided to take up a new hobby. Horticulture.

His magecraft had proven enormously helpful in picking up the hobby. By analysing the structure of plants, he could decipher their needs, or discover any problems before any outer physical signs were shown. He could even alter them slightly, granting a resistance to common infestations and diseases. The result was that his plants grew tall and healthy at a greatly accelerated pace. The result of _that_ was that within three months, the makeshift orchard of the church had moved far from it's humble beginnings and now resembled a small jungle.

He hummed to himself as he trimmed the roses. He might have altered them a little much, judging by the way that they seemed to grow a good foot everyday, and had thorns the size of small daggers. He didn't mind though, it kept the local cats out of the orchard, which in turn stopped him from treading in something he'd rather not. Or, God forbid, Gilgamesh stepping in something he'd rather not. The last time that had happened, there'd been distinctly less cats in the area for some time.

The King himself was lying under the shade of a tree, having acquired a hammock from the same place he got seemingly anything else he wanted. While the Heroic Spirit had mocked Shirou about taking up a 'womanly' hobby such as gardening, he'd still taken to sleeping in the orchard when he had free time. And supplied a fair number of rare plant's, though with a suitably caustic manner.

He stood as he cut off the last of the extra vegetation. He looked down at the trimmers he'd been using, and frowned. The metal was already nicked and scratched, and he'd only gotten the things a few weeks ago. He glared at the roses, which almost seemed abashed under his gaze. At this rate, he might have to ask his father to allow him to borrow some of the Black Keys. Or maybe Gilgamesh had some top-quality trimmers stashed away somewhere. It wouldn't surprise him.

"Shirou." He turned at the sound of his fathers voice.

"Come with me. There is someone you should meet." Kotomine walked away, and Shirou stripped off his gloves hurriedly, following him.

The first thing he noticed as they walked down the stairs of the church into the basement his father used for magical experiments was the mess. Scorch marks dotted the walls, and in several places around the room, it seemed like a sledgehammer had been driven into the walls. The second thing was the girl.

She was quite pretty, with long, dark brown hair, tied up in two pigtails and deep, aquamarine eyes. She was currently focused on a small stone that was laying on a table three feet from her, softly glowing.

The third thing he noticed, about three seconds after that, was the stone exploding.

"AH!" The shriek of frustration was incredibly loud in the enclosed space. "It was going so well too!"

"I'm sure it was," Kirei said calmly. "How unfortunate that we missed that part."

The girl spun on her heels, glaring round at the priest. "Oh shut up! I nearly had it! I'm alm-" She paused, noticing the boy staring at her outburst. "Who's he?"

"This," Kotomine gestured at Shirou. "Is Shirou, your fellow apprentice and my adoptive son."

The girl blinked. "When did you adopt a son?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Kirei replied, stepping aside. "No doubt Shirou is slightly tired of being ignored."

"I-I knew that!" The girl flushed angrily at Kirei's mockery before facing Shirou. "Sorry about that. I was just surprised at the idea that this fake priest would adopt someone. I'm Tohsaka Rin."

"It's not a problem," Shirou responded, dismissing her apology with a shake of his head. "Kotomine Shirou. I'll be in your care." He bowed, and Rin blushed slightly.

"There's no need for that," She said, crossing her arms and steadfastly not meeting his gaze. "We're both just apprentices here."

"But you're the senior apprentice," He replied. "And I've little doubt that you're far more skilled than me."

Rin blushed again at that, but didn't argue the point, apparently accepting the praise with good grace.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that you're too far behind," Kirei said, brushing the remnants of the shattered stone off of the table. "At the very least, Tohsaka will have to slow down so as to preserve her budget."

The girl bit her lip at that but didn't reply, which suggested that there was some truth to the claim. Shirou examined a shard of the broken stone carefully. It appeared to be amethyst, a fairly precious gem.

"What were you doing?" He asked, admiring the way the light shone off of the vibrantly purple stone.

Rin perked up at the question, apparently more than happy to deflect the conversation from her finances. "I was practicing transferring Prana to the stone," She hesitated, but then continued. "I still haven't quite got it right. I'm putting it in the right places, but a little too quick."

Shirou's brow furrowed.

"Prana transfer? Like reinforcement?" Rin was already shaking her head before he'd even finished.

"No. Reinforcement is a temporary measure, and it's impossible for it to add any traits to the substance that it didn't have before. What I'm doing is creating a Mystic Code." She sounded inordinately proud of herself, which made what he had to say next a little awkward.

"What's a Mystic Code?" Tohsaka looked at him emotionlessly for a second, then faced Kotomine.

"Have you actually taught him anything about Magi?" She exclaimed, glaring at the priest. Kotomine met her glare with a raised eyebrow.

"I taught him the more practical parts of magecraft. I saw no need to expand into the actual culture at this point."

Rin sighed, placing her face in her palm. After a moment's thought, she grabbed Shirou's arm, pulling him up the stairs. Shirou gave no resistance as the girl dragged him away from the makeshift testing ground, too confused by the sudden turn on events.

"Come on, Shirou-san," Rin said. "It's obvious that someone's got to give you a proper education so that you don't turn out like that fake priest down there."

"Why do you keep calling him that?" Shirou asked, almost stumbling over a step as Rin continued to maintain her grip on his arm. She snorted.

"Do actually see that guy as a real priest? With everything he does?" He thought about that for a second. His father was a magus, which he had always thought odd for a priest. More than that, his father rarely prayed and when he did it was with a rather twisted smile on his face, as if amused at some cosmic joke. Not exactly stellar behaviour for someone who claimed to be a man of God.

"I suppose he's not quite what you'd expect." Shirou admitted as they came out of the stairwell and into the courtyard. Tohsaka finally released him.

"Right," She eyed him up and down, as if somehow expecting to be able judge how much he knew just by his appearance. "This could take a while. Do you know anywhere we could sit down?"

Shirou considered that for a second, then nodded. "Follow me." He turned and walked through the gate he'd come through not five minutes ago. The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked towards the orchard he'd commandeered. Tohsaka seemed surprised at the orchards new look.

"This has… changed a fair bit." Tohsaka said hesitatingly, looking at one of the plants with interest. She reached out towards its vibrant flowers.

"Oh. That plant's quite toxic." Her head whipped towards him, incredulous look plastered on her face. He continued. "Aconitum napellus, more commonly known as monkshood. It's really quite deadly. I've been considering trying to mix them with the roses."

Tohsaka looked at the three inch thorns on the roses. Then back at the deceptively pretty flower. "I don't think you should."

"No?" Shirou asked, frowning. He'd been interested to see if the poison inherent to the plant could be transferred through magecraft.

"No." Tohsaka confirmed. She pointed at another plant, a small branching one that had been placed in a separate patch of soil, marked off from the rest of the garden. A few tasty looking berries hung from the branches. "What's this?"

"That's Atropa belladonna, known as deadly nightshade. It's _incredibly _toxic." He said, smiling. Talking about his garden was one of things he found he enjoyed most in life. "I've been thinking about trying to transfer the toxin to-"

"No." Tohsaka said firmly.

"No?" He inquired, a disappointed look coming over his face.

"No." She repeated.

Shirou sighed morosely. He'd thought it was a good idea too.

Tohsaka shook her head, seeming exhausted. "And I thought you were normal. I guess that's a little too much to hope for, if you were adopted by that fake priest." She shrugged. "You're still better than him though. There's some hope for you anyway."

Shirous wasn't quite sure if that had been a compliment or not, so he stayed silent, leading Rin to one of the few sections of the orchard lacking any poisonous plants. Gilgamesh had already vanished , as he always did whenever someone came to the church. Kotomine wasn't too fond of the idea of telling people that he still had a Heroic Spirit and Gilgamesh seemed content to go along with it. Well, he'd tell Kotomine that he was a gutless coward who was also fool for trying to hide the magnificence of the King, but that was as close to content as his older brother got. He imagined that Rin was unaware of the Servant's existence as well, so he'd keep quiet about that.

"So did you grow all this?" Rin asked, apparently distracted from her original purpose by the sheer volume of vegetation around them. Shirou nodded.

"It's my hobby. And it supplies me with samples for my magecraft." He opened up two chairs, sitting them down. Rin ignored them, focusing on him.

"Your magecraft, huh…" She seemed thoughtful. "So you're not the same as that fake priest? You don't use surgery magic?"

Shirou considered that. Theoretically, his magic could be used for surgery and healing, but he'd declined to use it on humans so far, lacking test subjects and unwilling to try it on himself at his current level of skill. But it was fundamentally different from Kotomine Kirei's magic. If Kirei 'cut', then Shirou 'twisted'. He didn't slice through tissue, so much as he moved it out of his way.

"No. I can shape living things, but it's not the same." He replied, thinking. Perhaps a demonstration was needed. He snapped a twig from the overhanging birch tree that was the centrepiece of the garden and focused.

"Analysis start."

Instantly, he could feel the twigs very existence scrolled out before him. The sap still within the wood, the already dwindling moisture that fed the leaves on it, the leaves still taking in sunlight… It all lay out before him, perfectly understandable. To reinforce it or to reshape it from this point was just a matter of Prana and control.

"Force function: Growth."

The prana flowed through the twig, and it bloomed. The wood grew and thickened, becoming closer to a small branch than the twig it had been. New shoots grew out, forming a mishmash of small twigs. He cut off the flow of Prana. Even doing this much was quite draining and he was forced to suppress a shake already building up within his body.

Rin took the branch from his unresisting branch, inspecting it. "That's pretty impressive. It's almost like reinforcement, but you're applying it to a function, rather than a physical presence." She gave him an approving nod. "That's fairly high end stuff."

Shirou accepted the praise calmly. It was actually a fairly rare thing to receive. His father was a fairy silent teacher, neither praising him on successes or scolding him on failures. And to get praise from Gilgamesh was to squeeze blood from the proverbial stone. Harder even. Stone's didn't shoot things at people who annoyed them.

"But I can't believe that he had you pulling of stuff like this without any of the basics," Rin said, having apparently remembered why she was here in the first place. "Seriously, what kind of magus was he planning to turn you into?"

She sat down and gestured for him for to follow. She rubbed her brow thoughtfully. "Uh. There's so much to teach you, I don't even know where to begin. Alright…"

And thus began the friendship of Kotomine Shirou and Tohsaka Rin. With Rin talking, and Shirou listening, trying not to say anything that could provoke her temper. It would continue in a simliar fashion. Rin had quite a temper after all.

* * *

><p>Matou Zouken looked down on the girl in the pit with a detached, emotionless expression. In the darkness below, an occasional scream or whimper would emerge, serving as nothing more than proof that the girl was not nearly prepared to take on her duties as a Matou magus. Louder than those, however, was the ever-present sound of thousands of worms crawling towards the girl. That sound abrely even registered to the withered patriarch of the Matou family, so familiar was it.<p>

He was angry, and he knew it. He'd been putting the girl in the pits more often than normal lately, even when it risked her health to do so. The source of that anger was equally obvious. He'd failed to find the remnants of the Fourth war's Holy Grail, which meant that his plans had been utterly derailed. The girl was essentially useless to him now, without the Grail shards to implant within her.

When the Holy Grail had been shattered, he couldn't believe his luck. Some fool had actually denied the Grail, and in turn denied all it offered. He'd rushed to the area as quickly as possible, risking his already frail life in the flames. All to find nothing. He'd kept an eye out for months, sure that some other magus had acquired them. All to find nothing. Eventually it had become obvious to him that either no part of the Grail had survived it's breaking, or that someone had spirited the fragments far beyond his reach. His hastily made plans had broken as surely as the Grail had, reduced to dust.

He gave a hacking cough, a viscous black phlegm coming out. This body was already nearing it's limit, the stress of the past few months having greatly accelerated it's decay. He'd have to feed soon.

Another stifled scream rose from the pit, drawing his attention to the girl. What to do with her now that she had lost her original? He supposed he could use her as a bargaining chip with other families, perhaps try to get some fresh blood into the Matou family. Not that there was much of a Matou family left to speak of. Or perhaps he could prepare her for the next Grail War…

He stopped at that thought, shock filling him. How had missed such an obvious answer?

His thoughts began to speed up. Kariya had been useless, nothing more than a rush job, his small number of circuits augmented by worms that would have killed him by now anyway, even if he had survived the war. The girl, Sakura, had more potential. The Tohsaka bloodline possessed considerable power, and with a rather more… rationed use of his worms, she could be made yet stronger. The next war would not be for some time. While he suspected that the irregular end to the previous war might induce a new war sooner than normal, there was still at least a few years to prepare.

There would have to be changes. For one, he would have to actually start teaching her magecraft, which would put even more strain on his fragile life-force. That meant feeding more often, which would be aggravating. He would also have to regulate her time in the pit. A broken shell of a girl would no longer suffice. Before, all he'd needed was a tool. Now he needed a weapon.

Matou Zouken turned, leaving the chamber. He had preparations to make, but before that, he felt tired and weak. There was only a sliver of moon in the sky tonight. An almost perfect night to feed.

He smiled, revealing a mouth with far too few teeth. He was very much looking forward to what the future contained.

-End-


	3. Summon

**A/N: So yeah, next chapter. Nothing else to say really.**

* * *

><p>Shirou watched his opponent carefully, his body assuming the stance that had been drilled into him years ago. As ever his opponent seemed completely unconcerned with his actions, merely waiting for him to make his move.<p>

He circled, but the enemy merely turned to keep him in view, the man's stance stance a mirror of his own.

It was in utter silence that he surged forward, his leg propelling him towards them in a blur of movement. His fist lanced forward, but his adversary's arm snapped out., deflecting the blow harmlessly. He turned on his heel, narrowly dodging a return blow and simultaneously lashing out with a vicious kick as he did so.

His opponent knew better than to try and block, leaping backwards to avoid the blow and gain space. Once again, he surged forward in pursuit, determined to keep the fight in close quarters and deny the older man the advantage of his greater reach.

He stamped his front foot down, using the movement to reinforce the blow he'd aimed at the centre mass of his foe. He'd stepped little more than two feet from his opponent, sealing the mans movements to only a few potential choices.

The blow was blocked as expected, but Shirou retracted his fist instantly, launching a flurry of attacks, the majority designed to merely distract the enemy from the few blows aimed at more vulnerable areas. He knew almost immediately that he'd made a mistake. His opponent was too experienced to fall for the dummy blows, and could use his greater strength to all but slap aside the dangerous strikes. More than that, he'd used this opportunity to regain his balance and gain room. Shirou gritted his teeth. He'd lost the initiative and that was going to cost him.

A deceptively fast blow shooting out confirmed that thought, and he blocked frantically, crossing his arms to absorb the blow. It felt like he'd had a sledgehammer driven into his arms, but he ignored the ringing and jabbed out with an elbow. If he went on the defensive now, he'd never get out of it.

They exchanged blows furiously and Shirou became increasingly aware of the way the fight was going. His opponent had advantages in height, reach and weight. More than that, the other man was simply better than him; his blows striking with more precision and force. Without shaking up the fight a little, this was only going to end one way: With him battered and bruised. As it always did.

He lowered his body slightly and charged forwards, driving his shoulder into the mans torso. The move obviously surprised the man, judging by the way he only got one stinging blow to the back of his torso before he connected. It wasn't a clean blow, but he hadn't expected one. The old bastard was far too experienced to get hit dead on with something like that. More importantly though, he'd gotten right into his opponents space. His the heel of his palm lashed upwards and connected solidly with the mans chin, sending him staggering backwards.

He kept up the assault, launching heavy blows aimed at every vulnerable point the'd ever learnt or heard off. Face, gut, groin, neck, chin… He repeated it in his mind like a mantra.

The man dodged a blow aimed at his face, twisting his head to allow it to pass by, and in a moment of horror, Shirou realised he'd overstretched himself.

_Oh this is going to hurt…_

The mans uppercut sunk into his gut and he doubled over by reflex, his body desperately trying to take in air. A low kick swept into his legs and he stumbled, trying desperately to preserve his balance through his gasps. A second blow to his gut told him how stupid an idea that was. An elbow drove into his back, throwing him to the floor.

He groaned, forcing his body to rise, only to feel a firm grip wrap around the back of his neck. The signal was clear, and he slumped, admitting his defeat.

"Your movements are too stiff," Kotomine said, releasing him and stepping away. "More than that, you don't control the force of your strikes correctly. They are often either too weak, or too strong for the situation." He paused, as if considering.

"The shoulder charge was good though."

"Thanks," Shirou replied, pulling himself to his feet. "Glad to know my new set of bruises gets me _some_ praise."

Not that he'd done too badly on the dishing out bruises part either. Kotomine's chin had already turned a dark purple from the earlier strike, and while the practice clothes they were wearing hid it, his arms probably weren't looking so great either.

"I have merely provided you with an opportunity to practice your magecraft as well." Kotomine said, a smirk creeping across his face. "As it was written: Physician, heal thyself."

Shirou snorted, but turned his attentions to his own body. He had school today and he'd really prefer to not be carrying around a half dozen injuries.

"Analysis start."

As expected, the flesh in his torso was already beginning to bruise. He sighed, focusing the prana into the injuries, forcing it to heal. He moved onto his arms, noting the points where his capillaries had been damaged and repairing them with ease. Luckily, there hadn't been much coagulation yet. That was always annoying to tidy up.

It hadn't taken very long before he'd been confident enough to experiment with his own powers on his body. There had been a few concerns of course, such as injuring himself, warping himself into a monstrosity or simply causing his flesh to explode. Nothing extraordinary, but enough to give a little pause. When curiosity had won over caution however, he had found it ludicrously easy. In particular, healing himself and others generally took more no than mere focus of Prana, rather than being forced to recite an Aria.

There were slightly more… aggressive uses to his power as well, but it had been some time before he'd found a way to practice them safely.

He relaxed, checking his internal prana supply as he finished up. While it was hardly an exact science, he'd gotten pretty good at judging the amount of prana that a being held within it, to the point that he could actually attach numbers to it with some accuracy.

He seemed to be doing fine on the Prana front, so he brought his attention back to the present.

"Want me to tidy you up?" He asked, gesturing at Kotomine's chin. The priest shook his head.

"I'll deal with it myself later. You shouldn't waste any more power. Not today."

Ah yes. Today. The big day. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement.

The Holy Grail War.

It had shaped his entire known life, it's aftermath his earliest memories. Since the time of the Fuyuki fire, he'd been wracked with curiosity about it. What would it be like to fight alongside a hero from another age? What was the Holy Grail like? How did it grant wishes? The thoughts span through his head, making it near impossible to truly concentrate on anything else. In a way, he was grateful for the continuing sparring sessions with his father. The simplicity of trying to beat someone to a pulp, while trying to stop the same happening to you kept your mind remarkably clear.

Now that he'd finished his training session though, he found his thoughts pulled back towards the War which he would soon be a part of. He'd be summoning a Servant tonight. After that, there'd be no turning back. He would be a Master, battling alongside the Heroic Spirit to achieve the right to use the Holy Grail, the omnipotent wish granter. It would be beyond interesting. It would be… fascinating.

Even the few stories of the previous war he'd managed to persuade Gilgamesh to cough up merely exacerbated his curiosity.

_I mean seriously, a dogfight between an ancient Babylonian Airship and an F-15? Who wouldn't want to see that? _He thought, leaving the small hall Kotomine had set up for training behind. While it was hardly a dojo, being little more than an expansion to the already elaborate basement level, it had lighting and a floor that wasn't just stone which was enough.

He glanced at his watch. He still had some time before he had to go to school. He supposed he'd grab breakfast and then check on his… garden. He'd already prepared a meal before getting ready for training, so it shouldn't take long.

As Shirou climbed the stairs towards the living quarters, he began to hear a strange melody. He frowned for a second at the strange noise, then speeded up his ascension.

As he opened the door to the living room/kitchen however, things became quite clear.

Some time ago, Shirou had bought a video console. A rather banged up play station, with a few games to go with it. He'd quite enjoyed spending his spare time on it. He'd even persuaded Rin to have a go, and taken great pleasure in annihilating her in any and all multiplayer games. Rin hadn't taken that well at all, and had insisted that they play until she 'got the hang of it'. Rin, regrettably, never got the hang of electronics. She hadn't won a single game to this day. Normally, that would have been the full story of Shirou's history with computer games.

At one point however, Gilgamesh, in a fit of boredom, had decided to take a shot at it. Three days later, a van had shown up, filled with several consoles, a small mountain of games, a new PC and a internet router. It had been a sight regularly repeated.

It wasn't that Gilgamesh was a fanatic. He'd long since surpassed such a term.

His older brother was wearing a golden dressing gown, and was stretched out on a long, recliner. Playing on the screen was a sight that was vaguely familiar. A city of stone and crystal, with a lone figure making his way across it. Huh. He would have thought that Gilgamesh had played Final Fantasy 7 before. He shrugged. It wasn't really his business anyway; Gilgamesh seemed to be ignoring him, so he'd just grab his breakfast and…

He paused, then gave a resigned sigh. The plates he'd prepared were empty. They were also sitting right next to Gilgamesh.

"Aniki," He spoke up. "Where's my breakfast?"

The Heroic Spirit spared him a single glance, before turning back to his game. "Oh. That. I was hungry, so I ate it." The reply was as blunt and short as expected.

Shirou closed his eyes for a second, calming himself. When he opened his eyes again, a wide smile was plastered on his face.

"So that's Final Fantasy 7, right Aniki? Haven't you played it before?"

Gilgamesh gave him an annoyed look at being distracted, but replied anyway.

"Hmph. I've merely been putting off playing it for a while. Things that are popular with the roiling masses are rarely any good." The lone figure on the screen, Cloud Strife, walked into a strange building. "It appears that for once, the mongrels were on to something. Saber is a wonderful character."

"Saber?" Shirou asked curiously. He couldn't remember a character called Saber in the game.

"Oh, her base name was Aeris or some such foolishness." Gilgamesh waved his hand dismissively. "I changed that as quickly as I could."

Wait, Aeris? The City of the Ancients? His brothers seeming ability to avoid even the most well known spoilers? A vicious smirk spread across his face.

"So you're quite sure you ate my entire breakfast?" He asked.

"What? Yes! Make yourself a new one, I'm busy." Gilgamesh had apparently decided that he'd wasted enough time on his younger brother, turning back to the screen.

"Saber dies."

For a moment, there was silence, then Gilgamesh's head slowly, ever so slowly, twisted towards him.

"What." Shirou smiled innocently.

"Saber dies. Get's stabbed from behind by Sephiroth. About ten minutes from where you are right now actually. It's wonderfully dramatic. Unexpected too."

His brothers eyes had dilated, something akin to shock crossing the King of Hero's face. "I'll just use a Phoenix Dow-"

"It's a cutscene death."

"Life spel-"

"Cutscene."

"Goddamn story and gameplay segregation!" Gilgamesh howled, throwing the controller to the floor. "How dare those mongrel producers kill her off! And… and… and…" He stopped.

"You just spoiled the game for me." It was a simple statement, but the threat was obvious.

Shirou raised an eyebrow. " Did I? Oops. Guess I was delirious from hunger."

"You little brat!" Shirou threw himself to the side as a controller smashed into the wall, shattering into electronic scrap and shards of plastic. Already, the air around Gilgamesh was shimmering, a sign that he should probably leave his brother alone for a little while.

"Don't forget to save!" he hollered, running out of the kitchen, the sounds of Gilgamesh's fury being a fine way to start the morning.

* * *

><p>Over the course of Shirou's time at the Kotomine church, it's orchard had undergone a few changes. Starting as a rather neglected patch of earth, Shirou's striving had turned it into a small, chaotic jungle. And from there, a large, but more ordered jungle.<p>

He strolled through the overgrown garden, ducking under a patch of low hanging ivy. While he'd expanded the number and types of plants somewhat, there was a definite theme for his garden. Lethality.

Apart from his old friends monkshood and deadly nightshade, he'd added foxglove, water hemlock, white snakeroot, meadow saffron, ragwort and corn lily to name a few. At Rin's insistence, he'd limited his transfer of the poisons into more innocuous plants somewhat. Somewhat. And he kept the really dangerous ones, like his new deadly nightroses, (name subject to change), in the workshop, which was nestled amidst the foliage.

To a magus, their workshop was everything. It was the centre-point of their research, the place in which they could safely plumb the depths of knowledge and power. To allow another into it was to risk them acquiring knowledge you'd spent years obtaining. Thus, most mages protected their workshops with layer upon layer of bounded fields, creating a veritable wall of magical energy. It was a nice image, and he wouldn't have minded doing it himself if he'd been any good at bounded fields.

Regrettably, he wasn't. It was just one of those skills, like virtually all aspects of magecraft apart from his quite specialised branch of the art, that escaped him. Tohsaka had done her best to try and correct that, forcing him to study the damn things for the best part of three months. She'd insisted that the creation of bounded fields was one of the skills that any proper magus should have.

It had been an uphill struggle but after the additional three months of practice, he'd managed to create a fantastically weak bounded field. Tohsaka had said that it resembled the one she'd made on her first attempt and he'd replied it really wasn't fair to compare their skills, given that she was the product of a few centuries worth of magical heritage and he was a random person without so much as a family magic crest.

Despite his bounded fields utter frailty, he'd found a use for it. Instead of being a wall, he'd turned it into a trip wire, using it's weakness as an advantage. Upon someone either destroying or crossing the field, a magical command would trigger, affecting every plant in the area and giving them clear, precise instructions.

Grow and Kill.

The result would be no doubt quite amusing, as every single plant in the orchard and worskhop, some of them quite heavily modified by his magecraft, would do their ample best to crush, slice and poison every living thing in the surrounding area that wasn't another piece of vegetation. For a short time, the church orchard would become a death trap. The roses would probably be enough to kill anything short of a Servant by themselves. Bloody things were lethal.

Best of all however, had been Rin's reaction to the idea.

She'd explained, in great detail, how such an idea was far too crude, brutal and savage for a true magus, how subtlety was they key word in the defence on the workshop and most of all, how such a plan was dangerous? What if he was nearby when it triggered?

That wasn't an issue though. There were four people that could pass unmolested through the field and not be attacked by the plants once it had been triggered. Himself, his father, Gilgamesh and Rin. She'd been surprised that his barrier had been altered to allow her to pass unchallenged, but he'd explained to her that she was far too important to him to be hurt by his magic. She'd blushed deep red at that. He wondered why. She was a good friend, surely she hadn't thought that he'd set his barrier against her?

He considered going inside the worskhop, but then shrugged. There was no real need to, given that his altered plants were considerably more durable than their natural counterparts. He didn't need to check on them every day. He'd just check on the more normal vegetation, buy some bread to serve as his breakfast, and head to school.

He had a busy day ahead of him after all.

* * *

><p>Tohsaka Rin stared into the mirror, her gaze unfocused and dazed. She'd never been a morning person, despite her attempts to become one, and her recent lack of sleep wasn't helping matters all that much. Frankly, she was worried.<p>

As a descendant of Tohsaka, she'd always known that there was a good chance that she'd have to fight in the Grail War. She'd accepted it and even relished the chance to prove herself. Even the War repeating so soon after the last had only thrown her off balance slightly. No, the problem lay in her competitors as opposed to herself. Or rather, one particular other Master.

She sighed. Shirou had never exactly kept his intentions of joining the Grail War a secret. In fact, he'd happily broadcasted the information whenever she asked. And in fact, she hadn't really thought about it as a problem. The war was supposed to be taking place in another forty of fifty years, not right now after all. If they'd come into conflict at all, it should have been years in the future. In fact, she'd harboured a small hope that perhaps there wouldn't be a need for it even then.

_I mean, there's no way that _two_ members of the Tohsaka family would have to join the war_… She thought. The moment the passing thought registered, her face turned scarlet. She shook her head violently, clearing the mortifyingly embarrassing thought from her mind. T-There was no reason to think about things like that.

She rubbed her eyes wearily, stumbling towards the kitchen, her eyes glaring malevolently at every source of light. Why was everything so bright? Why couldn't it stay dark for a little longer?

"Maybe I'll use the Holy Grail to wish for a new sun…" She murmured, her thoughts having falling back into a daze.

* * *

><p>Shirou bit down into the curry bread happily. While he didn't have his fathers love for spices capable of scorching your very soul, he didn't mind a mild curry once in a while. Besides, he was hungry after subsisting on a few pieces of plain bread for breakfast, and hunger always made things taste better.<p>

He leaned against the roofs railings, looking down on the view of Fuyuki City. Despite the biting winds, he was generally up here at lunch times, for several reasons. It was quiet and secluded for one, due to the aforementioned winds. More importantly though, he could watch all the people below, going about their lives. It wasn't a hobby exactly, but people watching was fairly fun.

The sound of the door to the roof opening drew his attention and he turned to see a familiar sight.

"Yello there," He greeted her cheerfully. "Come for the view, some company or both?"

Rin gave a small smile in response, but her face turned rather more grim quite quickly. He fought the urge to give a sigh. He had a fairly good guess as to what this was about, but kept quiet anyway. Better to let her get whatever she wanted to say out of her system.

Rin leaned on the railings next to him, but said nothing. They stayed like that, silently, for a full minute. He finished his curry bread, swallowing the last few crumbs calmly and looking down at the school yard. It was then that Rin spoke up.

"Kotomine-kun, do you still intend to take part in the War?"

_As expected, that's the theme of the conversation, huh?, _he thought. He gave Rin an easy, open smile. "Yeah, that's the plan."

"And you know what it involves?"

"You know, I don't actually. I just spent the last ten years of my life living with a Grail War survivor twiddling my thumbs." He replied, continuing before she could butt in. "C'mon Tohsaka, I know what I'm doing and I know what it means to be a Master."

There was silence again. It was obvious that Rin wanted to say more, but was struggling to find the correct way to put it. Eventually, she seemed to slump.

"Just… just be careful." She looked him straight in the eyes. "Ok, Shirou?"

He blinked in surprise at that. It was rare for Rin to call him by his first name even when they were alone. The very slight blush across her face told him that she was well aware of this.

"I've already pulled myself through the end one war," He said, grinning cheekily. "I've got some practice now, so this one should be easy."

Rin sighed at his flippancy, but turned to leave anyway, apparently reaching the end of what she felt she had to say. He called out to her.

"Oh. And Rin?"

She stopped, looking at him.

"Same thing to you. Take care of yourself."

* * *

><p>Rin stomped down the stairs, irritated at herself, Shirou and the world in general. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What exactly had she been expecting to accomplish? That she would somehow persuade Shirou to give up on something he'd been looking forward to for ten years in the space of a lunch break? And what had she been planning to say anyway?<p>

"Hey Shirou, the War's too dangerous for you. I don't want you to get hurt, so give up now please. Also, I'm going to be joining the War once we're done with this conversation."

It would have been insulting to his abilities as a magus, hypocritical and most importantly, would go against everything Shirou stood for. He lived for new sights and sounds, to know how things worked and understand them. To tell him that he 'wasn't allowed' to join an event like the Grail War would have gotten her nothing more than a blank look.

It wasn't like he was helpless either. His magecraft was a mish-mash of a dozen different idea, and specialised to the point of absurdity but it was certainly effective. He'd also been trained by Kotomine Kirei, and as much as she despised the fake priest, he was undeniably skilled at both martial arts and surviving even the most dangerous things in general.

No, her concern was selfish, and she knew it. Shirou had been her oldest friend, and the only one she could be completely open with about all aspects of her life, magical and mundane. She remembered when she'd first met him, when he'd been quiet, polite and reserved. He'd changed since then, becoming open, cheerful and even a little childish, but at the same time he hadn't changed at all. He was still Shirou, ever curious, ever blunt as a rock socially. The idea of fighting him was… weird. Unpleasant even.

Still it wasn't as if they'd be going for each others throats right off the bat. It was actually quite likely that they'd end up as allies. And if not…

Well, she'd just have to reduce his Servant to a puddle of spiritual energy. There was more than one way to win a battle after all.

* * *

><p>He hummed a tune to himself as he trimmed the roses in the school garden. After the small-scale warfare that was the gardening of his own plot of land, keeping the school's garden in check was a relaxing break. He couldn't use magic for anything more than analysis for such a public place of course, but that was a challenge in it's own way. It meant that he had to attend to the plant's needs through more mundane means, like fertiliser and water.<p>

As always, there was someone else with him, their attention alternating between the heavy book they were reading and him. Matou Sakura had been a constant presence during his gardening for almost a year, never helping, but seemingly enjoying watching him work. He didn't mind. She was quite pretty and exceedingly quiet and reserved, which made her an acceptable guest in his workplace.

"Sempai."

He paused at that, peering at Sakura curiously. He could count the number of times they'd spoken on the fingers of one hand, which made this a fairly unusual event by any measure.

"Yes?" He asked, brushing some dirt off of his gloves and he stood and faced her.

"You really enjoy working with plants, don't you?" She asked, looking at him steadily, no emotion evident in her words. He nodded.

"I do. Well, I like working with animals too, but people don't tend to be as willing to let you look after their pets as they are their plants." He replied. He had to be a lot more careful when dealing with animals too. While, if anything, his abilities were most suited to working with fauna than flora, animals were living beings with minds of their own, capable of feeling pain. He couldn't recklessly modify them like he could with plants. Healing was fine, but people noticed if their dog grew wings and gained another row of teeth.

"I thought so. You always look so peaceful when you work in the garden." Sakura nodded at his confirmation. "It's why I like watching you."

Her frank admission was a little embarrassing and he scratched his cheek awkwardly. While he did enjoy it, there were other benefits as well. Teachers recognised that he was taking on a job that needed to be done, and thus tended to grant him little allowances here and there, like being a little late to school or such.

Sakura appeared to have said all she wanted to say and stood.

"Leaving already?" He asked. Normally, she'd stay until he was finished and leave shortly after him.

"Yes. I have things to do today." She bowed, excusing herself. As she walked away, she stopped as if she'd just remembered something. "Sempai." She called.

"Forget something?" He asked only for her to shake her head.

"No." She faced him and bowed again. "Please be careful, Sempai. The streets are dangerous right now."

With that single cryptic statement, she turned and left.

Shirou considered. The timing of that warning coincided rather nicely with the beginning of the Grail War. More than that, Matou was one of the founding families, though they'd been known as Makiri then. If anyone was going to be aware of the War, it would be them. Kotomine had told him that the line had lost all power though, which meant that they couldn't be Master's. Or had they hidden a single magus from sight, using their reputation as a defunct magical line as a method to hide themselves?

He watched Sakura until she turned a corner, his thoughts still spinning. Eventually, he shrugged. Whether that was the case, or whether Sakura was just giving him a general warning, it didn't really matter. He'd watch the family anyway, and act based on what was happening. If need be, he could just analyse Sakura and see if she had functioning circuits. That was a last resort though, since it'd be as good as declaring himself a Master to anyone who could feel Prana.

He crouched back down. For now though, he had to water the orchids.

* * *

><p>The light shone off the circle on the floor, making it glisten wetly. Shirou check over it once more. It all appeared in order, with each component of the mystic circle in it's correct place. He'd used blood to draw it, mainly because he had quite a lot of it. He'd be draining and storing small amounts of his blood daily for some time, for the most part to be used in experiments. It was a little hard to get people to give blood for no reason after all.<p>

Eventually, he nodded. This was probably as good as it was going to get, particularly as he didn't have any real reagent to use to summon a specific Heroic Spirit. Well, that was fine. He'd just leave it up to chance. He took his place, and began his incantation. He'd learned from Kotomine that the incantation, like most Aria's, really didn't matter so much as long it included a few key elements. In fact, you could probably do it with just a ritual circle and some luck.

"Hear me, If thou would serve under me, as the Grail has willed, If thou would bind thy path to mine. I am the seeker of knowledge. I am the scholar without purpose. Come forth and break free of your bindings!"

The circle lit up, the blood becoming a fine pink mist that vanished almost as soon as it formed. A violet light shone out, colouring the entire room with his intensity. He stared, refusing to close his eyes. And as the light faded, a voice spoke up.

"I ask of you. Are you my Master?"

He looked at the Servant, a Heroic Spirit of legend. And blinked in surprise.

She was quite small and slim, probably only just barely reaching his chin. Short white hair hung against skin that nearly matched it's shade and her light blue eyes watched him. More important than that, however, was what she was wearing.

She wasn't wearing very much.

A top that vaguely resembled a waistcoat, held in place by a buckle near her throat and a belt wrapped round her torso. Her hands were wrapped in bandages and two other belts were on each of her arms, seemingly for decoration. She was wearing tights on her legs that went up to her thighs. But no skirt. Instead, she wore an incredibly revealing pair of panties, the straps holding them in place little more than threads. That was it.

"Umm, before that, do you want me to get you some more clothes?" He asked hesitantly.

The girl blinked, then looked down at herself. A fierce blush spread across her face.

"Ah. Yes." She nodded shyly.

"Right. New clothes then." Shirou said, walking to the door. They could talk properly in a bit. First, he needed to get something for her to wear. Or rather, something more significant for her to wear.

-End-


	4. Talk

**A/N: Next chapter. This announcement was courtesy of Captain Obvious! Saying what you already know!**

* * *

><p>The clock struck twelve and Shirou glanced at it momentarily before returning his attention to the seated girl. The Servant was currently sipping away at a cup of tea and looking quite content. More importantly, she was looking rather more <em>clothed<em>, as he'd managed to scrounge up a pair of his old jeans and a t-shirt. They weren't a perfect fit, but they managed to cover her up a little which was the important thing.

After she gotten dressed, they'd relocated to the living room where he'd made a cup of tea for both of them. They'd been sitting in silence for a minute or two, Shirou content to watch her and the Heroic Spirit content to wait, when he finally spoke up.

"Right. First things first." He held up his hand, the command seals glowing softly. "To answer your first question, I'm your summoner. Which I suppose makes me your Master."

The girl looked at the seals briefly and then nodded. It was obvious to both of them that they were contracted anyway. A thin stream of prana was already flowing from Shirou to the Servant, both empowering the spirit and making it blatantly clear who her summoner was.

"I've got a few questions to ask as well if you don't mind." He said, watching the Servant curiously. This was hardly his first time meeting a Heroic Spirit. After all, he'd lived with one for the best part of ten years. But the feeling this one projected was different from the feeling of confidence and arrogance that surrounded Gilgamesh. No, the air around her spoke of blood and dark emotions, vengeance and spite being foremost among them. It was… strangely familiar. He felt like he'd experienced a similar presence before this point, but he couldn't place it.

The girl nodded again. It appeared that despite being capable of it, she didn't like to speak more than needed. Well, that was fine. He took a deep breath, then continued.

"Who are you?"

"Assassin." The response was brief and clipped. He nodded. He'd expected as much from looking at her. No armour, a light build and that collection of knives that was strapped to her back all suggested that she wasn't a frontline fighter.

"Alright. But who are you? Your name, I mean." The girl hesitated at that question, seemingly unwilling to speak. Shirou frowned. While he didn't actually _need_ to know who she was, it was the best way to get a reading on her abilities and how to use them. On the other hand, judging by the feelings of blood and hate she projected, it was quite likely that she really didn't want to speak about her past. While he was intensely curious as to who had summoned, the idea of forcing someone to speak against their will felt off to him.

"Alright. Don't worry about it, it can wait." He said, holding up a hand. "I was just curious."

Assassin seemed relieved and relaxed somewhat, taking a deep draught of her tea.

"Ah." Shirou said suddenly, a thought occurring to him. "Do you want some biscuits?"

Assassin went utterly still for a moment, then nodded slowly as if not to startle him. An odd reaction. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a packet of digestives. While Gilgamesh had his own supply of food and his father only ate things that would be very nearly fatal to others he preferred more wholesome foodstuffs. He'd even learned to cook to some extent, though he certainly wasn't any kind of expert.

He placed the packet down on the table and Assassin watched it cautiously, as if expecting the food to make a break for it. She reached out took a single digestive, dipping it into her tea slowly. Shirou found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the sight. It was almost as if she was performing some kind of ritual, with the sheer attention and focus she was giving the snack.

After a few seconds she extracted the biscuit from the drink and placed in her mouth. She bit off a piece and a strange expression crossed her face. It took a moment for him to realise that the expression was something approaching bliss. She repeated the process with the other half of the biscuit before swallowing it. It was, quite frankly, incredibly cute and he couldn't help but smile at how happy she looked.

"Would you like another?" He asked, moving the packet close to her. She nodded furiously.

"Yes."

Ah, She'd spoken again. Progress.

* * *

><p>She bit her fingernails nervously as she looked at the circle. This was her chance. When Kotomine Kirei had invited her to take part in the Holy Grail war, she hadn't believed her luck. From the time she'd been a girl, she had been enamoured of the story of Cu Chulainn, the legendary 'Man of Light'. She'd gasped in excitement at his battles, cheered when he'd achieved victory again and again and most of all, grieved when his story ended in tragedy. She'd wanted to change that ending and grant him the happiness she felt he deserved. And now she had a way to do exactly that.<p>

More than that, and she gulped at the thought, she had a way to summon the legend himself. While she'd failed to obtain a relic of his to use a reagent for the ritual, she knew that there was no way that she could summon another Servant. Her entire life had been shaped by his story and there was no chance that there was a Heroic Spirit more suitable for her in all existence.

She took a deep breath and stepped into her place at the circle. She'd use the standard aria for this. No sense in throwing in variables that might confuse the issue.

_This will work_, she thought determinedly. _It __**will**_.

The light shined out the circle and she narrowed her eyes at it's sheer intensity. A form became visible in the glare, tall and masculine. She felt her heart skip a beat. Could this be it? The culmination of her childhood dreams?

"Yo." The man stood before her, clothed in a tight blue suit that made a blush spread across her face. "Are you my Master then?" He looked her up and down. "If so, then this is gonna be a good war."

She stumbled back, staring at his fierce red eyes, his wide grin. It was him… She knew it! It was definitely him!

"I-I am." She hefted her hand, showing the command seals. She needed to confirm it. She needed to know. "Are you Cu Chulainn?" Despite her attempts at calm, it came out as a squeak.

"Wow. You know my name already?" He leaned in, causing her blush to spread even further. "I guess your eyes are good, along with just being pretty."

Bazett fainted.

* * *

><p>Kotomine Shirou was no stranger to people having odd quirks. He had lived with the King of Hero's and a quite possibly insane priest for almost all of his recallable life. He'd had Tohsaka Rin, who never said what was on her mind, as a best friend for an almost equal length of time. Which was the why the fact that his Servant had a sweet tooth didn't surprise him.<p>

He watched the small girl finish off a cupcake, taking a sip of tea to wash it down. She'd finished off the packet of digestives in a remarkable time frame and had looked so very mournful that he hadn't been able to resist the urge to bring out some more sweets. She'd annihilated the plain tea biscuits and despite the cupcakes desperate last stand, only two remained. No doubt they'd be joining their brethren soon enough.

Assassin picked a few crumbs off of her cheek. Her face had taken on that same blank expression that she'd had on her arrival, but her pose was far more relaxed and she'd reclined back in her armchair. He sighed. While he'd originally planned this to be a strategy meeting of sorts, it had quickly degenerated into little more than a tea party. Eventually, he shrugged. Not all the Servants had been summoned yet and so the War hadn't begun in earnest. They could afford to take it easy for a day or two, get to know each other and learn how to use their abilities together for the best effect.

"Well," He checked the clock. "It's probably time for me to go to sleep about now. I've still got school tomorrow after all."

He stood and Assassin mirrored his movement, though she took the chance to grab a cupcake . Walking to his room, her presence a constant shadow behind him, a thought popped into his mind, along with a growing sense of dread.

"Assassin, um, where would you like to stay?" He inquired, turning to face the tiny girl. She cocked her head, as if his question made no sense.

"I will guard you while you sleep." He sighed as she answered as expected.

"Yeah, see, no. That's not going to happen." Again Assassin responded with that confused look. "It's… well… I like my own space."

Well, it wasn't a lie. He did like some space to himself. More important though, was the fact that the idea of having a girl watching him in his sleep was a little disconcerting, spiritual form or no. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. It was just that he was a young man and she was an attractive girl. There were hormones involved. Ones that he couldn't suppress without damaging his body somewhat.

"You do not wish for my presence?" The question was as deadpan as ever, but he couldn't help but feel that there was an undertone of hurt to it. The situation was rapidly becoming awkward.

Practically, allowing her to remain in room in spiritual form would be the best solution. While the Kotomine church was, strictly speaking, neutral ground where battle was forbidden, rules were there to be broken. Without a Servant nearby to protect him, he was just asking for trouble.

On a more emotional level though, the idea of spectral presence watching him at night grated slightly. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was just a little worrying. He stood, deep in thought, for a moment longer. Perhaps it had something to do with his Origin. If he was naturally inclined to working with flesh, then wouldn't a being with no physical form at all, not even the fake one that Servants normally used to interact with the world, be as far from that as possible?

"Assassin, you can sleep, can't you?" He asked suddenly. The girl paused but nodded slowly.

"I don't need to. But I can." Her pale blue eyes watched him curiously.

"Ok then," He said, moving towards the spare bedroom next to his. "I'll set this place up for you. You can sleep there, if that's ok?"

"It would be safer for me to share a room with you." Assassin replied, apparently not giving up on this point. "And sleep is not needed. If anything, it is a risk. Especially if I am removed from your presence."

"Alright, fine." Shirou sighed again. "Compromise time. You can stay in my room, but I'll be putting a screen between us, and you've got to sleep. No watching over me in spirit form all night long."

Assassin seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Satisfactory. Maintaining my physical form for a protracted period of time will be a drain on you though. The fact that I am sleeping will mitigate this somewhat, but it will still be there, Master."

"I'll deal with that," Shirou responded, relief settling in that he had managed to resolve the issue. "Besides, it'll be good to get an estimation of how big the drain is before we get into a fight."

He stopped, considering. "Oh, and don't call me 'Master'. It just feels weird. My name's Shirou."

The Servant closed her eyes for a second, as if concentrating. "Understood, Shirou."

He opened his cupboard and pulled out a futon, shaking it out briefly before lying it one the floor. When he turned back to the Servant, she was staring at the large, quilted bed with an odd look in her eyes. "Never seen a bed before?" He quipped, giving a small grin.

"I have never slept in one." Assassin responded, her gaze still unmoving. Shirou's smile faded. Wow… that… that made the joke a little awkward.

"Do you want the bed?" Shirou asked. The girls head whipped round at him. She nodded and inwardly, Shirou groaned.

It looked like he was going to be on the floor then.

* * *

><p>Assassin wasn't sure what to make of her new master. She could tell that he was a good person. He was kind, generous, open and had treated her well so far. He'd also given her sweets and a bed. She pulled the blankets tighter around herself at that thought, enjoying their softness. Frankly, he'd treated her better than anyone had in her entire life.<p>

She slipped out the covers, slightly regretting leaving the softness behind, and trod towards the screen that separated the room. Her movements were perfectly silent and her presence utterly hidden. She was the Heroic Spirit Assassin after all, no human would ever sense her if she didn't want to be found.

She opened the screen slightly and slid through. Shirou lay there, his face peaceful as he slept, his breath even and regular. She crouched down, watching him. In the slums that she'd spent her childhood, indeed most of her life in, even a small blanket like this had been a commodity for the abandoned children of the city. They'd gathered under the few that they could find, often more than a dozen children sleeping together in a huddle, trying to force the sheet to spread over as many as possible. In all probability, the sharing of body heat that their close proximity to each other had caused had probably helped the children more than anything the tattered blankets had done.

She watched him for a while longer. He looked very warm…

* * *

><p><em>He dreamt of a city.<em>

_It was shrouded in fog, a fog tainted with the pollution of a hundred years of industry. The city was ancient and powerful. An empire spread out from it, crossing the waves and land to rule people thousands of miles away, people who had never seen the city or the Queen they swore allegiance to._

_It was a place of money and power, with merchants and politicians fighting day and night to claim and keep their share of both. In such a place, people fell through the cracks so very easily. There was a whole world to be kept in shape after all. Who had the time to truly care about the fate of a child of a street prostitute? _

_In a back alley slum, a girl would steal money from those who passed. She preyed on those foolish enough to leave their wallets unguarded, and those too drunk to notice a small hand slipping into their coat pocket on a crowded street. It was not a safe existence, nor a happy one. But it was an existence and so for a while the girl was content._

_That all changed the day she saw a child run to it's mother, crying. The mother picked it up, comforted it and promised it something good to eat. The father, who'd been arguing with a street seller, came running at the sound of the screams and soon joined the mother in reassuring the child._

_She'd asked herself a simple, yet unanswerable question: Why? _

_Why does that child have a family that cares, and I do not? Why are there so many abandoned children like me, yet so many more that have homes? Why did my family cast me away, before I could even remember their faces? _

_Slowly but surely, she reached a conclusion. It was her mothers fault. It was the fault of the woman who'd brought her into this world, yet not cared enough to keep her. And her mother was not alone. There were others, whores and prostitutes and nightwalkers that did the same, or didn't even give their children that much of a chance, killing them before they'd even been born._

_That conclusion fostered resentment. Resentment became spite. Spite grew to become hate. Hate gave a purpose…._

Shirou eyes shot open, the dream of the city of smoke and fog still vivid in his mind. He blinked. That had been… interesting. He'd heard from his father that the memories of a Servant could pass over the bond to the Master, but he hadn't expected it to start so soon.

As he drifted further back into wakefulness, he became aware that he was warm. Uncomfortably warm actually. He pulled back the covers, trying to get some of the morning's fresh, cool air against his body. As the cover came back, his mind went blank as his brain seemed to shut down temporarily. Lying next to him, wearing nothing more than his t-shirt and that pair of impossibly small pants, was Assassin.

_Ok, Shirou_, he thought, _Don't panic. There's probably a good explanation for this. Just wake her up and talk about this. You are a rational, cool-headed person. You won't panic in this kind of situation._

"Snphdsf!" He all but shrieked, back-pedalling out of the futon. Or trying to anyway. Unfortunately, the moment before he made his move a pair of slim but incredibly powerful arms wrapped around him, reeling him in. A small head rested itself on his chest, her breath tickling his abs. Against his will, parts of him began to wake up rather faster than the rest of him.

He struggled in her grip which, while it failed to free him, seemed to wake up the sleeping Servant. Her eyes opened and closed blearily and she eventually looked up at him.

"Good morning." She said calmly.

"Hngifds." He agreed, his mind still reeling. He forced himself to focus. Assassin appeared in no rush to release him, which meant that it'd be up to him to take the initiative in this situation.

"Assassin, what are you doing?" The question came out remarkably calm, all things considered.

The small Servant seemed to consider that for a second, then responded casually.

"I was sleeping."

"Yes. Yes, I got that." Shirou replied, exasperation leaking into his voice. "My question is: Why are you doing it in my bed?"

"You looked warm, so I climbed into the futon. You were warm, so I stayed." Her response was so frank and superficially logical that for a moment, he almost accepted it. Almost.

"But it's my bed." He stated. "I gave you the main bed so that you could sleep there. Not here."

"You don't like it?" She asked, looking up at him again.

The most obvious answer that sprang to mind was 'No'. But that would be at least partly a lie. Parts of him most certainly liked it. On a more… platonic level, her presence was quite pleasant. She was warm and soft and having her next to him was surprisingly comfortable. More than that though, he couldn't help but feel that the question was some kind of test and that a straight out denial wouldn't be the best answer.

"I…" He hesitated. Assassin watched him, calmly waiting for his answer. "I didn't say that."

"So you like it?" The question was as blunt as a hammer to the face and he very nearly winced. He was being forced into a verbal corner.

"It's not about me liking it or not." He said, subtly reinforcing his limbs. While the Servant would almost certainly sense his prana moving, she wouldn't sense the steady build up of power in his muscles. If he timed it right, he could break out of the grasp in one movement. He supposed he could have just used a command seal to get out, but that felt like cheating. And a terrible waste of a command seal. "It's about the fact that we agreed to sleep separated by a screen, and that didn't happen."

"You were warm." Assassin protested, somewhat sulkily, as if that could justify any action she took. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I…" He sighed. This felt like kicking a puppy. Assassin obviously regarded their sleeping together as some kind of mark of trust, and not anything sexual. "I enjoyed it. It felt comfortable having you next to me."

He could feel the arms around him relax somewhat and for a moment, he could have sworn a small smile crossed her face. He slipped out of her grasp. To his relief she didn't try and grab him again. Instead, she curled up in the blankets like a cat, wrapping them around her. Not exactly the stellar image for a Heroic Spirit of legend, but he'd long ago given up on expecting people to conform to what was expected of them. He shook his head violently, clearing it as much as possible.

"Right then, what do you want for breakfast?" He inquired cheerfully. Whatever had just transpired, it was probably best to put it behind him, at least for now. "I could make some pancakes if you want-"

He could barely even perceive Assassin's movements as she shot out of the bed. He supposed she did want pancakes then.

* * *

><p>Shirou opened the door to his workshop, stepping swiftly inside the small, glorified shed that was his research centre as a magus. After breakfast, he'd decided to check out the growth of his modified plants in the workshop. Assassin, as ever, followed him. She'd apparently gone into her quiet mode, probably out of contentment from a sugary breakfast. Gilgamesh and his father had seemingly vanished, leaving them the whole kitchen to themselves. He wasn't worried. This wasn't the first time they'd both disappeared, and it likely wouldn't be the last. They'd almost certainly be back by the next day.<p>

A small generator hummed in the corner next to the window, powering a freezer. When he'd shown it to Rin, he'd rather thought that she was going to kill him on the spot. Instead, she'd given him an incredibly long speech on why magi didn't use technology in their research, how it cheapened the art of magic and how he should get rid of the bloody thing as soon as possible. She'd failed, however, to answer one important question: How else was he supposed to keep the blood bags frozen?

So the generator had stayed, despite her complaints.

As he entered, several plants, engineered to feed on prana, rustled. The moment they recognised his od however, they settled down. They went through a similar process for Assassin, but he'd already altered the field to accept her, so they settled down once again. He was quite proud of the wasting thistle, (name subject to change), actually. They were effectively perfect magus killers. A fair degree of magic resistance, and their ability to feed on the od of magi enabled them to rapidly drain a magus of his or her ability to defend themselves. Which would leave them easy prey for the deadly nightroses, (name subject to change), and green strangler (name not subject to change. He rather liked it).

He gave each plant a quick check over, analysing them carefully to ensure that they were healthy. He was pleased to see that his prana reserves were still doing quite well, having even recovered from the summoning of Assassin, despite the fact that she'd maintained a physical presence nigh constantly. Still, it would probably be a good idea to take some help, just in case he ran into another Master even this early on.

He opened a drawer, taking out two small tins. He opened them carefully, peering inside. A half dozen seeds rested in each, visibly notable only for being quite large. To a magus however, the prana within was hugely obvious. Each seed practically bristled with the stuff. He closed the tins and put them in his pockets.

"Alright Assassin, you ready?" He faced the Servant, who seemed to have become deeply engrossed in inspecting one of the plants.

"For what, Shirou?" She turned her attention away from the plant and back to her Master.

"I've got school now, so you're probably going to need to be in spiritual form to accompany me." The Servants eyes widened slightly.

"You mean… You're going out? In the day?" Her question was one part incredulous, two parts nervous. Shirou frowned.

"Well, yeah. Is that a problem?" He replied.

"No." Assassin said it firmly, as if trying to convince herself. "You wish for me to be in spiritual form, yes? Invisible to others?"

"That's right." Shirou nodded, curious as to his Servants concern. More and more he found himself wanting to know exactly what her identity was. Hopefully his dreams would continue, so that he could puzzle it out.

"Then it's fine." She nodded, before vanishing from sight.

Shirou stared at the spot where Assassin had been, a memory from last night surfacing. She'd blushed when she'd noticed what she'd been wearing in front of him on arrival. She was the Servant Assassin, a class that devoted themselves to mastery of stealth and surprise attacks. A realisation struck him, leaving his mouth nearly agape. She was _shy_. A legendary Heroic Spirit, a being of myth and lore, with power that surpasses all others was shy. And had a sweet tooth. And liked to bond by sleeping next to her Master.

The realisation rapidly turned to amusement. And why had he expected any different? He'd lived with Gilgamesh, the King of Hero's, for nearly ten years and the man had been anything but the epitome of nobility. He was an avid video gamer, he had an online account called Kingofpwnrs for God's sake! Heroic Spirits, for all their power and skill, were still just people. They'd been placed on a pedestal by magi, made into some kind of supreme existence. And on one level, they were. Each of them had overcome trials and challenges that would have destroyed another. They'd ascended to the throne of Hero's. But despite that, despite that, they still had the same troubles, same neuroses, same joys and same goals as any other human was capable of.

It was definitely food for thought.

* * *

><p>"You will take this." Sakura said, passing the book over to Shinji. He looked at it, gaze worried. While he'd never had the magic circuits required to be a magus, his theoretical knowledge was quite good. She knew that he knew damn well what it was. The Book of the False Attendant. A magical item that allowed him to act as a Master, if only by proxy.<p>

"Why?" He asked nervously. "There's no way I can fight in your place."

She was well aware of that. Whether as a combatant or a source of prana, her brother was equally useless. He didn't have the arrogance to believe otherwise. That day in the pit had driven all such things from him.

"You will not be required to," She replied. "Your purpose is to serve as a screen for my activities."

It was a tactic that had been used to great effect in the previous War by Emiya Kiritsugu. One magus to act as a distraction, the other to hunt down opposing Master's.

"But... that's..." She knew what he wanted to say. It would be suicide. His chances of surviving were practically non-existent. But he didn't have the nerve to say it, not in front of Zouken.

The old man was watching them from the shadows, his gaze like a sword poised over their heads. While Sakura had no particular fondness for her brother, the tactic still rankled. It was a suicide mission. While the book itself would give him access to a few basic combat spells, they'd be pale shadows of what a true magus would be capable of.

"Do not be concerned," She said calmly. "This mission will only last until all Master's identities have been confirmed. I will supply the Prana to Berserker. You need only act as a figurehead."

Shinji's eyes flicked to the Servant in the corner. The huge, looming figure stared back at him, eyes savage. It obviously didn't reassure him.

But, as Sakura knew, there was no way he would refuse. Zouken had decided that this was how the War was going to be fought, and in the Matou household, his word was law.

Despite herself, she could feel fear building up within her, just from the soul-crushing weight of his gaze. Zouken had trained her, made her strong, but his intent had always been clear. She was a weapon for the use of the glory of the Matou family. Zouken's glory. Despite her training, or perhaps because of it, her fear of the rotten old magus matched Shinji's. The slightest frown of dissaproval caused her to panic, memories of time spent in the pit rising up. Terror had become a constant feeling for her. She could never escape that pressure, no matter where she went.

Except for one place.

The memories of that simple, tiny school garden and the boy who tended it calmed her. Kotomine Shirou. His presence soothed her in ways she couldn't even begin to describe or explain. When she was watching him work, she felt tranquil, at peace, like she had never felt since before ever coming to the Matou household. He would survive the War, she decided. He would not be a casualty of the crossfire between Masters. She would ensure it.

* * *

><p>The street was quiet. Why shouldn't it have been? It was early morning after all. Almost everybody was either asleep, or in the early stages of getting ready for work or school.<p>

Ilyasviel von Einzbern stood in the middle of the road, her body shaking slightly. Finally, as if she couldn't hold it back anymore, her fist pumped into the air.

"Heroine of love and justice, Ilyasviel von Einzbern has arrived! Master's who would abuse their powers, beware!" She shouted, the sound piercing the early morning air. As the shout faded away, she nodded in satisfaction. A hero always had to announce themselves on arrival. It was only fair after all.

"Master…" Her Servant gave a long suffering sigh next to her. "That wasn't exactly wise."

"Oh, don't be boring!" Ilya gave the Heroic Spirit a beaming smile. "Even if anyone heard, it's only giving them a chance to get ready."

"Yes, Master. That's my concern. We don't want them to get ready." The Servant sighed again. If she hadn't been summoned nearly four years ago, and thus had a chance to acclimatise to the small, white haired girls personality, she'd no doubt be ripping her hair out by now.

"Boring~" Ilya trilled. Suddenly, her face darkened. "And why are you calling me 'Master' now? I thought we got past that years ago?"

"Yes, Master, but we are in the Holy Grail War itself now. Caution should be paramount."

"Nope." Her response was abrupt.

"Nope?" The Servant questioned.

"Nope. You're not calling me 'Master'. My name is Ilya. It's a good name." Ilya crossed her arms stubbornly, fixing her Servant with a piercing gaze.

"Very well, Ilya." The Heroic Spirit said, folding before that determined look. Ilya beamed once more.

"You see? That was easy, wasn't it?"

The swordswoman nodded grudgingly. Ilya smile grew wider. Once you knew how to work around her Servant's incredibly serious personality, dealing with her became so much easier.

"So, Ilya, if you don't mind me asking: Why are we here in the morning?" Now it was the Servant's turn to cross her arms, giving the little girl a suspicious stare. "I assumed that you had a plan of some sort, so I didn't question it back at the castle. I would like to hear that plan now. Our chances of encountering a Master in an area suitable for battle are practically non-existent at this time."

"Huhu," Ilya laughed evilly. "You'll like this. My plan is to go to all the arcades in town and play around all day."

Silence reigned.

"Tell me, _Master_," The swordswoman's voice was cold. "On what God-forsaken piece of rock would I ever like that idea?"

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport." Ilya said, waving off the complaint dismissively. She'd known that her Servant would react like this of course. "It'll be fine. I'll look for anyone suspicious while I'm doing it."

"That is a lie." The Servant stated. "You intend to do nothing of the sort, and instead you plan to mess around all day long."

Ilya frowned. It looked like her Servant was catching on to the way her mind worked. That could make things more difficult. Time to appeal to her Servant's sense of pity.

"Oh, please let me." Her eyes began to tear up, and she stared at the swordswoman pitifully, her red eyes wavering. The Servant wavered. Ilya suppressed her vicious grin. Time for the finisher. "I- I haven't been out to play for such a long time. You know that! I just wanted to- I just want…" She trailed off.

"Very well." The swordswoman's jade eyes were filled with reluctant pity as she replied. "I suppose one day will be fine. Not all the Servant's have been summoned yet."

Ilya cheered, immediately running off in the direction of the shopping district she'd seen earlier. Her teary eyes had already vanished. "C'mon Saber! We've got to be quick to get as much done as possible!"

Saber blinked, the realisation of the fact that she'd been taken for a ride crossing her face. "Ilya!" She roared, chasing after the small girl, even the blue dress that had been provided for her barely slowing down the King of Knight's. "Get back here!"

Ilya giggled as she ran. She knew that Saber would give her a row when they got back, but for now, the day beckoned. This was going to be a fun War.

And more than that, she would prove that she could uphold her fathers ideals. She would make him proud.

-End-


	5. Calm

**A/N: I suppose I should say that there's Final Fantasy 7 spoilers below, but if you honestly don't don't know them already, I'll be incredibly surprised.**

* * *

><p>Emiya Kiritsugu had had everything he'd ever wanted. A loving wife. A healthy child. A chance to fulfil an ideal he'd considered impossible, yet struggled towards anyway. It had been more than he'd considered himself worthy of.<p>

He'd thrown it away.

It had been for a good reason. The Holy Grail had been nothing more than a tool of destruction. To use it would have been to go against everything Emiya Kiritsugu stood for, everything he represented. So when he was given the chance to bring back his beloved wife, and live together with her and his child, he'd forced his Servant to destroy the Grail, the instrument of her own salvation. How could he have done otherwise? The price for his happiness would have been the world.

And as if to mock him, despite his desperate search, he'd found no-one amidst the flames. He hadn't saved a single person. What had stumbled out of the wreckage had been a broken shell of a man. Emiya Kiritsugu, Magus Killer, was long gone. All that was left was a man who needed to see the last thing that was important to him.

His path to the winter country where the Einzbern made their home had been dangerous. He'd made enemies, too many to count, even before the war. They'd hunted him, but the skills that had made him one of the deadliest men alive had not faded, even if he couldn't summon the drive to use them for any proactive purpose. They'd hunted him, and they'd died. Not without cost to himself though. The curse that the Grail had placed on him grew only stronger, and his continual use of magic and strenuous physical activity only sped up the process.

Yet still, he'd persevered. And eventually, he'd reached the lands ruled by the Einzbern's. He'd been denied entry of course. They considered his actions a betrayal and wouldn't let him near his daughter, their pawn for the next war. Not that that had stopped him. The Einzbern's bounded field was impressive indeed, but he'd always been good at breaking such things and theirs was no exception. In less than a day, he'd pierced his way into the heart of their territory, and showed no signs of stopping, no matter what they threw against him.

Their familiars, their alchemical creations, their servants and even their own magi. They'd thrown it all against him, like a body trying to drive out a hostile invader. He'd avoided what he could and slain what he couldn't. But at a cost, always at a cost. If it had been a shell of a man that had entered the forest of winter, it had been fragments held together by willpower that had reached the castle.

He'd stumbled through its all but empty halls, halls that had been emptied to hunt him, until he'd reached a room in the highest tower, like a knight rescuing a princess. But he was no knight and she was no princess. Just a father, who desperately wanted to see his daughter. And a daughter, who desperately wanted to see her father.

He'd opened the door, and for a moment, she hadn't recognised him. When she did, her face twisted in concern. He knew why. Wounds dotted his form, and the curse had sapped almost all the remaining vitality from him. He looked like a dead man walking. But he was smiling as he saw the little girl dressed all in purple.

She'd tried to help him, tried to heal him. A useless effort. The Einzbern family weren't much for healing to begin with, and his daughter had barely begun her training. So he'd shushed her, and told her a story.

It wasn't a pleasant one. There were no happy endings, no heroes. There were just fools, jesters and monsters, who'd battled for a worthless prize, no true victory ever possible. A silent girl, who had followed his orders to the end. A dark priest, so very warped that he had been unable to recognise his own wickedness and then not cared when he had. A beautiful woman, who'd deserved so much more, who had become a container for the darkest of forces.

And the greatest fool of them all, a man who had thought that miracles could occur, that someone could be saved without cost.

He'd told her that he loved her. Oh, he told her so many times. She cried and cried and cried, nodding. She loved him too. He'd kept his promise after all.

As the last of the life that had sustained him slipped from his body, he'd whispered something. His purest desire.

"When I was young, I wanted to be a superhero."

She'd nodded, tears running down her cheek and said:

"That's fine. You're old, so there's no way you can do that anymore. Just watch me pull it off."

He'd grinned at that. Despite all the pain that ideal had given him, hearing the words from his own daughter's mouth made him happy in a way that he couldn't describe.

"In that case, I can be a little relieved."

Emiya Kiritsugu left four things to his daughter. A battered gun. A handful of bullets. An old sheath. And a way of life that had destroyed him.

She thought they were the best presents he'd ever given her.

* * *

><p>Kotomine Shirou sighed as he settled into his seat. School just seemed so surreal. He'd always enjoyed it, despite his classmates feelings on the place. Somewhere that handed out knowledge, that rewarded curiosity and experimentation, just felt right to him. If some of the teachers were dull, or strict, then so what? The library alone more than made up for such small inconveniences.<p>

But the fact of the matter was that he was a Master now, fighting in a war that none of his classmates could even imagine, let alone ever be a part of. There was a barrier between the simple life he'd lived before and the reality of the life he was living now, imperceptible but absolute. He wondered if this was what Rin felt like, all the time.

He'd never embraced the lifestyle of magus, and had never intended to. He felt no need to present a perfect self image to the world at large, like Rin, perfect honour student and school idol, did. Furthermore, while he had enough common sense to keep his magecraft secret, he'd thrown aside most of the other 'codes' of magi. Partly because the idea of magi having a set of common rules that they all abided to perfectly was as ridiculous as the idea of herding cats, but mostly because they rankled in their intent. Magi saw magecraft as a research subject, knowledge to be stored and hoarded. To them, magic itself was both the end and the means.

It was different for him. He saw it as a way to experience new things and affect the world around himself. Magecraft was important to him because of what it allowed him to do, not just because of itself. They were both scholars of the art, but if they were philosophers, he was an engineer. They looked for higher truths. He researched and used his magic to change the world around him. It had been one of the many sources of tension between him and Rin, along with the bounded field and generator. She'd called him a 'magic user', someone who had the skills of a magus, but none of the way of life. It was apparently meant as an insult, but he quite liked the title. It didn't sound quite as pretentious for one thing.

_Speaking of Rin_, he thought, mind turning to more practical matters, _I really need to talk with her._

The moment the lunch bell rung, he walked out, making his way to Rin's classroom. As luck would have it she was just outside, deep in conversation with a number of female juniors, all of whom looked rather impressed. Rin had that effect on people. People who didn't know her anyway.

"Tohsaka!" He called, and Rin turned, facing him. So did her newfound fans, all of whom looked quite annoyed by the interruption.

"Kotomine-kun?" Rin replied, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, sorry to interrupt, but it's quite important." He gave a brief, apologetic nod to the girls. "I need to talk to you about your suggestion to increase athletic club funding."

"Oh?" Rin raised an eyebrow, then sighed. "I suppose we'd best go somewhere else then. This might take a while. Sorry girls, we'll try and talk later." She apologised to the juniors, then followed him to an empty room.

"So you've developed an interest in student council affairs now, Kotomine-kun?" She asked sardonically, the moment the door was closed behind them.

"Oh, you know me. I'm a dedicated member of the community at heart." He responded casually. "I've always got time to throw myself into the fire of your wrath for the sake of my fellow students."

"So I see." She sat down. "So what's this about?"

Shirou looked her straight in the eye. "I need to borrow some of your clothes."

Rin's face was fantastically blank.

"W-what?"

"I need to borrow some of your clothes." He repeated. "Preferably nice ones. A selection of different colours would be good too."

"May I ask why?" Rin spluttered out. Shirou frowned as he watched her. She was acting like he'd asked for something weird.

"Sure. They're for Assassin." He replied calmly. Rin's face paled.

"Who?"

"Assassin. Wait, hold on a sec," He paused. "Assassin, could you come out?"

There was a moments silence, then a small girl, clothed in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans appeared. If her sudden appearance didn't clue Rin into what she was, the four knives strapped to her waist probably did. Rin's already pale face became alabaster.

"Shirou, you summoned a Servant last night?" She asked, her voice quite steady.

He nodded. "Yeah. About ten o'clock. Why?"

Rin closed her eyes and rubbed her brow, as if horribly tired.

"You know, I'm going to be a Master as well. Telling someone what Servant class you have is a pretty hefty advantage to give an enemy."

Shirou frowned. What was Rin talking about? "That's not a problem. I've never considered you an enemy. The War isn't going to change that."

He watched as her face turned magenta. He'd thought about it before, but Rin had a wonderfully emphatic face. Despite her best attempts, she'd never got dissembling quite right. When they were younger, he'd even amused himself by getting her to break her perfect façade in front of others. The look on her face when she realised that she'd acted like… well… herself, in front of others never ceased to make him smile.

"I-I see." Rin said quietly, looking away. Her voice trailed off to an imperceptible murmur as she continued. "Well, I guess I've thought something similar on occasion."

"Sorry Tohsaka, what was that?" He leaned in, frowning. He hadn't quite caught what she'd said.

Rin's face was now a blazing inferno of scarlet. "Shut up! I won't say it again! I'll get you the clothes and even bring them round to the damn church! I hope you enjoy them!"

"Rin."

"W-what?" She crossed her arms defensively, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Thanks."

"It's fine!" She huffed, apparently calmed down somewhat.

"No, really. Thanks. I think I've told you this before, but you're a good person, you know that?"

Rin was quiet at that, apparently shocked into silence. Eventually, she forced her mouth open. "No, I'm not!"

He raised an eyebrow at the protest. _Being a little defensive there aren't you, Rin? _Still, when Tohsaka was in one of her stubborn moods, arguing was as pointless and inevitably painful as beating your head off of a wall.

"Sure, sure. You're a heartless witch, dread emanates from you in waves, children scream at your presence, etc etc. Even so, thanks once again." He turned to Assassin, who'd remained quiet throughout the talk. "Alright, let's go, Assassin."

Assassin nodded in acquiescence. But before she vanished, she glanced at Rin, a glare of obvious dislike on her face. It was the last thing Rin saw on the small Servant's visage before she went into spiritual form.

Shirou paused at the door.

"Oh. And Rin, we've done this before, but take care, alright?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but Shirou left quickly. As fun as watching a flustered Rin was, he still had to grab lunch.

* * *

><p>Rin had been as good as her word. A quite large selection of his clothes had been waiting for him on the doorstep of the church, after his return from gardening. Some of them were even different colours from the red and black combo that his friend so favoured.<p>

Oddly enough, Assassin didn't seem very pleased at that, eyeing the pile with a mix of disdain and mistrust.

"Something wrong?" He asked, picking the clothing up.

"I don't want to wear it." She replied. He stopped, shooting her a curious look.

"Why? I mean, you only have to wear it indoors. No-one else is going to see it, if that's what you're worried about." Assassin shook her head as he spoke.

"Not that. I just don't want to." She had clammed up after that, refusing to speak another word on the matter and eventually, he'd given up. For now, she'd simply have to make do with his old clothes, at least until he could buy her something new. He wished she'd come to this conclusion before he'd asked Rin though. It would have saved him some trouble.

He walked into the living room, depositing the pile of clothing on a chair, along with his school gear. Gilgamesh had returned, and was once again enthralled within the world of Final Fantasy 7. He'd made some progress since his last save point, apparently reaching the Northern Crater for the first time.

He blinked in surprise as Gilgamesh paused the game, turning round. Gilgamesh never paused games, not for anything short of an earthquake or a determined interruption. And even then it had to be a fairly big earthquake. His older brothers gaze briefly inspected him, before passing over to the Servant at his side. Assassin dropped into a combat stance, knives flicking out into her hands. Gilgamesh sneered at the motion.

"Don't worry, Assassin," Shirou placed a hand in front of the girl. "He's my brother, not an enemy."

The Heroic Spirit hesitated a moment, then slipped her knives back into their sheaths. Her pose was still wary though, and she watched the King of Heroes cautiously.

"Well, well brat. It appears you've managed to summon a glorified street rat. I don't know whether I should be shocked at your failure, or merely consider it par for the course." Gilgamesh drawled, turning his attention back to his little brother. "I don't suppose you want to get rid of her? I could go out and kill a Master, and you could make a new contract with another, more… noble Servant."

Assassin bristled at the insult, her hands reaching for the blades at her hip. Shirou stopped her with a gesture, shaking his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine." He replied. A small smile crossed his face."Oh, and be careful."

The King of Heroes raised an eyebrow at that. "Be careful? Of what? You don't think your little street urchin is a threat to _me_, do you?

"No, but you're about to miss the scene where Cloud is suggested to be a failed clone of Sephiroth, who's been trapped in a vast, crystallised materia in the Northern Crater for the past few years."

There was a moment of silence while Gilgamesh digested what he'd heard.

"You little braaaaaaaaat…!" The roar followed Shirou out of the room as he grabbed Assassin and made a run for it. Given that this was the second time he'd ruined his brothers gaming experience in the last few days, it would probably be best for them to be out of the house for an hour or two. A second cry echoed out from the church behind them, followed by a blade embedding itself in the ground a few feet from his position.

Maybe a few more hours than originally planned then. Still, the frustration on his brother's face made it all worthwhile.

He supposed that they'd be eating out. That was fine, he knew a good Chinese restaurant. They did a great Mapo tofu, as long as you asked them to go easy on the spices.

…Really, really easy.

* * *

><p>Lancer was in a good mood. He'd been summoned by an attractive young lady, he was going to fight in a war against combatants that could rival him and he was in an interesting country, so very different to his own land. All in all, it was everything he could ever really want.<p>

Well, a few more girls and some drink would be great.

He lounged back against the fence, his Master beside him looking over the city. Bazett, for all her charms and the cute way she stuttered around him, was surprisingly professional when it came to the War. She'd insisted that they get a good overview of the town they were going to be waging war in, and he'd obliged, taking her to the top of the tallest building he could see in only a few bounds. He'd been hoping that the experience would cause her to cling to him a little, but if anything, the contact had made her more nervous than the death-defying leaps.

"Lancer, you should take a look at this too," Bazett scolded, turning to him. "Knowing the layout of the city will help you better know how to-"

"Already memorised it." He interrupted. His Master hesitated.

"Oh. Really?"

"Yup."

Bazett appeared a little embarrassed by her presumption that he was slacking, intertwining her fingers and looking away from him. Then again, she'd always been like that around him. Her crush on him was so blatantly obvious that he actually felt a little guilty flirting with her. It would just be so easy that it felt almost wrong to take advantage of it. Like he was cheating or something.

"Well, not like it'll help till we get into a fight anyway. And the way things are going, who knows when that'll be." Lancer reclined back against the fence. Bazett had been a stickler for the rules so far. Not all the Servants had been summoned, so they weren't going hunting. If they encountered another Master by chance, then that was fine. They'd engage them. But they weren't going to join the War in earnest till everybody was ready. While he was annoyed that his long awaited battles had been put off, the idea had a certain element of fair play to it that pleased him. After all, the longer he gave his enemies to prepare, the better the match they'd be.

"Even so, we might need to make a tactical retreat at some point. This is the sort of war where even something as simple as knowledge of the local terrain that can spell the difference between life and death."

"Wow, Master. I never knew that." He drawled in response. "Guess all that fighting in my life never taught me any real lessons in warfare. Who would have thought?"

Bazett scowled for a second, then shook her head. "Sorry. I'm thinking aloud more than anything else." She hesitated. "I'm a little nervous."

The admission surprised Lancer. His Master tended to project a businesslike air wherever possible, rarely showing emotions like fear or concern and speaking of them even less.

"That so?" He picked his at teeth casually. "Well, I guess that this war would unsettle anybody from this era-"

"It's not that." Her interruption shot across him. "I have no concerns with regards to the War. I have you helping me after all." She blushed at that, but continued. "My worry is that you will find me somehow unsatisfactory as Master."

Lancer stared at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing. Guffaws sounded around the empty roof top, and he wiped his eyes of the tears his laughter had created.

"Oh. That's too good. That's just fantastic. Look," He faced her, face growing a little more serious. "You're a good woman. And when I say that, I don't just mean you're attractive. You're strong, brave and loyal. You've shown all the traits that a Red Branch knight should have. Frankly, I respect you. No matter how the War goes, as long as you face it as you have, I'll have no complaints."

Bazett watched him for a moment, as if trying to drag a lie from what he'd said. Eventually, she relaxed. "Guess I was making mountains of molehills then?"

"Far as I can tell, that's not an uncommon thing these days." The Heroic Spirit gave a disappointed sight. "There just ain't anyone able to take it as it comes anymore."

Bazett smiled. "I'll try and correct that from now on." She stretched, her form illuminated by the sun sinking past the horizon. "For starters, how about we get something to eat? I thought I saw an interesting looking Chinese restaurant down there. I'll get some takeout."

Lancer laughed again. _She really is a good woman, huh?_

"Now you're getting it. Grab me some of the drink from around here while you're at it, would you? If I'm going to wait, might as well sample the local flavour!"

* * *

><p>Shirou watched the diminutive Servant pile away the food. No. That didn't describe the small Servant's talents to a satisfactory degree. She annihilated it. She reduced it to rubble. She was the force of destruction itself to the realm of food. If a curry was to be exposed to the force of a thousand detonating suns, then forced through the crushing gravity of a black hole, it might have rivalled her effect on the foodstuff. Might. It would up to the judges to decide.<p>

"So you like it then?" He asked, amused.

"It is a pleasant taste." The Servant said in between mouthfuls. "One that I have never experienced before."

_It had damn well better be pleasant_, Shirou thought darkly. He'd fought long and hard to get the idea across to Batsu-san, the manager of this place, that when one asked for 'spice', they did not in fact mean the that the refined flames of hell should be liberally added to their food. Nor that almost every other vegetable that the meal normally used should be replaced with red pepper.

He glanced down at his own meal. Beef lo mein. One of the few meals that had been safe to eat even before his frequent arguments with Batsu-san, mainly due to the fact that the recipe didn't allow for much, if any, spice to be added.

"Hmmm. So you've never had Chinese or curry before… What about Italian or Indian food?" He probed gently. While he'd decided to mostly leave the subject of her past alone until she was ready to tell him, the curiosity was still present. A few questions on foodstuffs weren't all that bad, right? Besides, he quite enjoyed seeing Assassin looking pleased.

Assassin shook her head. "I have not tried any of those. I ate little when I was alive, and it was mostly plain fare. Bread and such."

"Well, you certainly seem to be making up for lost time." He noted, eyeing her almost empty plate. Her almost empty _second_ plate. If this was going to be the way of things for the course of the war, his wallet would be all but screaming by the end.

"Is that bad?" Assassin asked, her movement pausing as she looked at him, the fork held in mid-air.

"No, it's not." He shook his head, smiling. "If you enjoy something, then enjoy it. It's as simple as that."

The Servant seemed to consider that, then nodded. "Good advice. I shall remember it."

"Really? Rin told me that it was stupidly simplistic when I said it to her." Shirou said, a smile breaking out over his face as he remembered the scolding. She'd been in a particularly bad mood that day.

"Rin." He looked back at the Servant. "That is the girl from earlier?"

"Yep. She's my oldest friend, and heir to the family of Tohsaka." The Servant impassive visage distorted as he spoke.

"You should not associate with her." It was phrased as a statement. "She is to be a Master. She will be your enemy."

"I don't think so." He replied. The way she'd said that had been strange, like she'd been trying to convince him. "Rin and I have been through too much to start going for each others throats over something like the Holy Grail. In fact, once she's summoned a Servant, we'll probably join forces."

"That would be pointless." Assassin's voice was cold as she spoke, the ever-moving fork placed down on the table. "Only one Master and Servant can hold the Grail. It cannot be shared. You may be able to cooperate for now. But in time you will strike the other."

"We'll find a way round that," He said firmly. "Truth be told, I don't think either of us really care for the Grail that much."

"That may be the case now. But it will change." The small Servant stood up from her seat, facing him. When she stood, she was almost as tall as he was seated. "You will have to be on guard against her. If you are not, then I shall be."

"And how exactly are you planning to be on guard?" He asked, expression cooling as he met his Servant's gaze.

"Should she try to harm you, I will kill her. Should she approach you without warning, I will kill her. Should she threaten you, I will kill her. Should she hide information from you, I will kill her. Should-" A feverish light was in the Assassin's blue eyes as she spoke, her fingers twitching slightly, as if grasping a knife.

"I get the feeling you don't like Rin much." He interrupted, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I don't." Assassin replied flatly. He waited for a moment, but the Servant didn't elaborate.

"Any particular reason why…?" He inquired, trying to draw an explanation out of her. He was beginning to find the aggressive stance Assassin was taking with regards to Rin more than a little worrying. _Having my Servant trying to kill my best friend is one experience I could do without_, he thought dryly.

"You are too close to her. Your judgement is being impaired." He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head in resignedly.

"Alright, I understand your point. I don't agree with it, and I'm not going to start planning how to kill Rin, but I get it."

"Then you will cut contact with her?" That same feverish look was back in her eyes as she leaned forward. Shirou shrugged.

"I don't intend to do that. For the moment, I don't have any particular plans with regards to how to deal with each individual Master. But," He paused for effect, then continued speaking. "I'm not going to kill Rin. That won't change, even if she does decide to seize the Grail."

Assassin's face distorted once more, anger twisting it into an almost feral expression. "Why? Why do you value her so highly?"

"Because she's my friend, and thus important to me." He replied simply. "And I intend to protect what's important to me during this war. That's all."

The Servant stopped, seemingly considering what he'd said. Her eyes closed as she fell into thought. "At the least, will you be ready to combat her? Should circumstances call for it?"

Shirou hesitated. It wasn't really something he even wanted to think about, but Assassin had a point. There was the possibility that Rin might be coerced or compelled into fighting him. Eventually, he nodded. "If it comes to it, I'll fight her. But it won't. And even if by some chance it does, I won't kill her." He emphasised that last past firmly. Finally, Assassin relaxed a little.

"That will have to do." She sat back in her chair, grabbing her fork and attacking her now cool food.

He couldn't help but feel that she was stabbing the curry a little harder than necessary.

* * *

><p>Assassin felt an anger bubbling beneath her impassive exterior. Her Master was truly kind. Too kind. He trusted people he should not, even in circumstances that all but declared their impending betrayal. This 'Rin' was just one example of this. The anger within thrashed like a snake at the thought of the girl…<p>

Who was the girl to interfere with her Master? In the Holy Grail War, the only person a Master could trust was their Servant. All others were suspect. The only person Shirou should trust in was her. The only person Shirou should be kind to was her. She remembered his face when he'd admitted that he'd enjoyed sleeping next to her. _No one else should be allowed to see that face._

She realized she was being irrational. Shirou knew more about Rin than she did, had a far deeper emotional connection with the magus than he did with her. He would know better than her if Rin could truly be trusted. That thought just made her angrier.

No, she decided, Rin couldn't be left alone. She _would _betray Shirou, and Assassin would not allow Shirou to feel the sting of betrayal from one he considered a friend. So the solution was simple. She'd kill Rin. She'd have to change her technique a little. As much as she would have liked to repeat the style of her Whitechapel murders on the flesh of that girl, it would be a road sign to her once Shirou figured out who she was. So she'd make it look like an accident. Rin would slip, and fall down the stairs, and die. It would be that simple. All she needed was a few minutes in which Shirou was distracted and she could make it so. He'd never even realise that she'd been gone.

The thought warmed her a little, and she turned her attention back to her meal. Or tried to.

A warning rang across her mind, her senses detecting the presence of one like her, a spirit from another time. She stiffened, turning to her Master.

"Shirou. There is an enemy approaching." Shirou stopped, putting his cutlery back down on the table.

"Never a dull moment…" He sighed. "Do they know we're here?"

She nodded. "I was not hiding my presence. A mistake." He shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. I wasn't exactly combat ready myself. What are they doing now?"

She focused, letting her sense reach out to the presence of the other Servant. It hadn't moved.

"They are waiting." She answered. Shirou sighed again at that, exasperation clear in his voice.

"Well, I guess that's about as clear to an invitation as we're ever going to get." He stood, depositing some money on the table. "You ready for a fight, Assassin?"

"Yes, Shirou." And she was. She'd show him that he didn't need Rin to win.

She'd show him that he didn't need anyone but her.

* * *

><p>Tohsaka Rin was not a happy magus. The moment she'd returned, she'd begun preparations to summon a Servant. If Shirou had called his, then there likely few places left in the War. The idea of missing the Holy Grail War, simply due to not summoning a Servant in time, was just too ludicrous to be contemplated.<p>

The summoning itself had been a perfect success, a digital alarm clock that Shirou had bought for her some time ago alerting her to the time to perform the ritual. Well, nearly a perfect success. She hadn't gotten Saber, which had been her hope, but the Servant she'd summoned seemed powerful, if eccentric.

The woman had reclined on the sofa, a coat as red as her hair wrapped around her tall, well-developed body. She'd pulled a pipe out from somewhere, and was smoking it in a relaxed manner, occasionally sending perfectly formed rings into the air.

"So, are you going to tell me who you are?" Rin asked calmly, her perfect smile concealing the growing annoyance within her. _First impressions are everything after all. Not that this idiot seems to know that._

"Ah. I suppose I should," The Servant drawled, pulling herself up. "I'm Francis Drake, Rider of this War."

Apparently satisfied with her efforts, Rider slumped back down onto the chair, taking a long draw on her pipe as she did so.

"Wait…" Rin held out a hand to stop the Servant. "Francis Drake? As in Sir Francis Drake, the privateer?"

"That's the biscuit." Rider agreed cheerily.

"But Sir Francis Drake was a man!" Rin exclaimed, shaking her head in denial. "There's historical records of him!"

"Well, I can't speak for those," Rider said, taking another puff. "But I certainly don't remember ever having a rod and tackle. Now, I can remember enjoying more than a few of them, but-"

"You can stop there!" Rin shrieked, a blush covering her face.

"I did tend to hide my gender as a prank for Lizzie." Rider mused. "Maybe I was better at it than I thought?"

Rin rubbed her brow. The idea that such a huge portion of history could be so very wrong due to a prank was ridiculous. Yet looking at the woman in front of her, she found herself able to believe it.

"Well, whatever." She dismissed it. Whatever her Servant's unusual origins, the more important part was how they'd work together. "I need to know more about you if we're going to be fighting in this War."

"Oh?" A lopsided smile crossed the Servant's face. "You want to know about moi? Well, I'm a hedonist at heart. My favourite thing is spending money and my personal motto is 'Gold coins should be used up like a storm!'. Furthermore, I really like drinking-"

"That's not what I mean," Rin said exasperatedly. "I mean, what kind of abilities do you-"

She stopped. _Wait a minute, what did she just say?_

"Rider, could you repeat that last bit for me?" The Servant gave her a curious stare.

"Sure. I really like drink-"

"Not that bit," Rin interrupted. "The part before."

"Oh. Well, I really like spending money and my motto is that 'Gold coins should be used up like a storm!'." The Servant looked around appreciatively. "Y'know, now that I get a look at this place, it's pretty nice. You must be fairly well off, right?"

The greedy expression in Rider's eye granted a greater terror than Tohsaka Rin had experienced for a long time. By some strange quirk of fate, the magus nicknamed 'The Miser of Fuyuki' (by Shirou) had summoned her natural enemy: A frivolous spender.

-End-


	6. Storm

**A/N: Take a guess what this is. Go on. If you guessed that it's a new chapter, then you were right! If you guessed something else… Better luck next time.**

* * *

><p>Shirou walked through the quiet streets warily. Despite the fact that Assassin was giving him regular updates on the location of the enemy Servant, he couldn't help but feel tense. More than that, while Servants could detect each other easily enough, they had no such abilities for discovering the locations of Masters. It was unlikely, but possible, that the enemy Master might be trailing them even now. While their stealth capabilities would have to be incredible to hide from the senses of a Servant, it wasn't entirely impossible. Not in this War.<p>

"Are they still moving away from us?" He asked quietly.

"Yes." Assassin replied, her pose even more combat ready than his. "They are heading north at a steady pace. No notable deviation."

"So they're drawing us somewhere…" He murmured. The only notable landmark north of this point was the park. While it would be nice to think that they were being drawn there for a fair fight, away from the eyes of the uninvolved, it was equally possible that they were walking head first into a trap. "Assassin, there's no way that they could have sensed you before you noticed them, is there?"

"No." Assassin shook her head. "Only an Assassin class can hide their presence from others. We should have located each other simultaneously." Her voice was a little bitter as she spoke, obviously still annoyed at her own negligence.

_Well, at least that cuts down the chance that they've prepared a surprise for us_, he thought.

Frankly, he was considering telling Assassin to hide her presence and then making a run for it. The Assassin class just wasn't suited for flat out combat. Subterfuge and murder were their favoured methods of battle, not a clash of arms. While he had little doubt that Assassin could handle a Master with no effort, sending her to duel Saber, Lancer, Archer or Berserker wouldn't be the best of ideas.

"Shirou." He turned at the Servant's voice. "Do not worry." She gave an impossibly small smile. "We will win."

Shirou grinned at the Servant's reassurance. What exactly was he worrying about again? Even if the Servant was one of the three knight classes, it didn't mean that victory was impossible. Besides, it wasn't like the war could be won entirely from the shadows. Eventually they'd be forced into combat. Best to get some experience now, while he had as many resources on hand as possible.

They continued walking through the darkening streets, following the trail of the other Servant until Assassin paused, frowning. "They have ceased movement, Shirou. About two hundred meters north of this point."

He nodded. Then it was the park that they'd been heading to. Good. That meant he could be a little flashy.

He stretched out his senses as he approached the wooded area, seeking any tell-tale signs of magecraft. He was a little surprised to find none. The area seemed virtually undisturbed, in fact.

The trees parted, revealing a small clearing, likely used for picnics. Standing there were the rival Master and her Servant. She watched him steadily as he approached, seemingly trying to read him. With her severe suit and piercing gaze, she probably would have made a fairly imposing figure, if she weren't standing next to her Servant.

The blue clothed Servant seemed at ease, leaning on his spear, but his eyes were like a wild animals, fierce and savage. He was a warrior. Shirou could tell just from watching him. Of course, almost all Heroic Spirits were, to one degree or another, but this one's entire presence all but shouted it to the world, like a challenge. He gave a savage grin as he saw them approach.

"Well, well. Looks like an interesting pair here, huh Master?" The Servant, almost certainly Lancer, judging by his weapon, drawled.

The woman ignored the Servant, stepping forward. "I am Bazett Fraga McRemitz, Master of Servant Lancer." She declared, her voice cool and measured. Shirou blinked in surprise. Giving out your full name and the class of your Servant willingly was very nearly unheard of. It could reveal what abilities you were likely to possess and help your enemy defend against your Servant somewhat.

More and more, he was beginning to suspect that this woman really was just incredibly honest. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. The woman was still waiting for his response after all.

"Kotomine Shirou, Master of Servant Assassin." The woman gave him a surprised look at that.

"Kotomine?" She stared at him, as though trying to see something in his face. "Are you related to Kotomine Kirei?"

Shirou blinked again. It seemed that surprises just kept coming tonight. "My father," He replied slowly. "Do you know him?"

"We've worked together," Bazett responded, looking a little uncertain at the revelation. "I didn't know he had a son."

There was a brief silence, and then Bazett shrugged. "It changes nothing. You are still a Master in the Grail War. If you are truly Kotomine Kirei's son, then you know what that means."

"I do." Shirou declared firmly, meeting her gaze. Eventually, she nodded.

Almost instantly, the air grew thick with tension. Lancer had pulled his spear out from the ground, leveling it at them, even as Assassin drew her knives. Excitement began to build up within Shirou, almost childish in its simplicity and intensity. This was the War he'd been preparing for almost his entire life for, the clash between magi and Heroic Spirits. How could he not be excited?

It was Lancer who broke the standoff, launching forward as little more than a blue blur, his lance aimed directly at Shirou, a streak of red in the dim light. It was near unstoppable, a perfect thrust. It never even got close.

Assassin was like a shadow, intercepting the warrior with a flurry of attacks, forcing him to abort his charge and switch to defence, batting away the impossibly fast stabs and slices. Lancer leapt backwards, trying to use the range advantage of his weapon, only for Assassin to match his speed perfectly, her knives never letting up the assault. Their weapons showered sparks off of each other as they collided time and time again, the two Servants movements a blur as they dashed off to the side.

Which left the Masters.

Shirou charged. While Bazett's skills were unknown, he favoured his chances in close combat more than he did at range. His abilities were primarily focused around enhancing himself physically, as opposed to the ranged combat Rin excelled at. Even as he ran, prana built up in his limbs, reinforcing them to a level far beyond normal limits.

Bazett didn't move, merely taking a combative stance as she watched his approach. Behind her, a metal orb floated serenely. His eyes narrowed. While he had no idea what the sphere was, he'd give good odds that it wasn't good. If it was a projectile weapon though, the last thing he wanted to do was hesitate at this range. He sped up, reinforced legs propelling him towards the Fraga in a last furious dash.

His elbow lashed out as he reached her, but Bazett twisted aside, launching a staggeringly fast punch directly at his head. He snapped his other arm up, blocking it. He gritted his teeth as the strike connected. The sheer force of the blow had jarred him, even with his reinforcement.

It looked like the older magus had some enhancements of her own.

* * *

><p>Lancer growled in dissatisfaction as the other Servant twisted around the jab of his lance, once again closing the combat range. Her knives flicked out, and he grasped the lance in both hands, using the length of the red pole to block the attacks, before lashing out with its butt. Assassin crouched low under the path of the weapon, exploding forward before he could reverse the strike, knives jabbing violently at him. He blocked them, pushing her back before launching a series of rapid thrusts.<p>

On one level, he was impressed. The girl was a better fight than he'd been expecting from an Assassin, almost keeping up with him. On another, he was getting increasingly aggravated with that very same fact. If the other Servant had been a talented fighter, someone he could match blows with to the fullest, that would've been fine. She wasn't. For a Servant, her skills were lacklustre. It was that her ridiculous speed restricted his style, preventing him from using the reach of the lance to its fullest effect. A deadlock. Her skills couldn't penetrate his defence, but without the full reach of his lance, she could dodge any of his attacks with ease.

Except one, of course.

That was a last resort though. Noble Phantasms were a trump card, not something to be pulled out whenever you ran into an opponent you couldn't beat in five minutes. For all he knew, there was a rival Master watching this battle right now, just waiting to see a Servant use their Phantasm. Someone knowing his identity would be particularly troublesome, given his collection of geas.

No, he decided. Annoying or not, he'd kill this Servant with his own skills. Or she'd die when Bazett killed her Master. Either way.

* * *

><p>Shirou launched a series of kicks, driving the other magus back momentarily. He followed up with a rapid jab, only for Bazett to block it, seemingly without discomfort. She lashed out with a flurry of punches, and he back-pedalled, trying to avoid as many as possible. She lunged forward at that, an uppercut aiming towards his gut, but he swept the attack aside, striking a solid blow at her head in response. Her arm shot up, blocking the strike, but a pained grimace crossed her face at the impact. He fought down a smile of satisfaction. At least she wasn't invulnerable.<p>

Even so, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Bazett outmatched him. Skill wise she actually seemed to be a little below his father, her blows not quite as crisp as Kotomine Kirei's precise movements, but that was more than made up for by whatever enchantment empowered her. She was blindingly fast and almost ludicrously strong for a human, as the numerous bruises on his body could attest to. While it was little grating that she was better at physical enhancement than him, he wasn't one to let pride force him down a harder road. If that was her speciality, then he'd try something else.

His leg swept forward at a low angle, the kick aimed at her legs. As expected, she moved back, only for him to take single step forward, slamming his foot down to strengthen the punch he launched at her midsection. Her arms crossed to block it, but he retracted the attack before it came close to landing, throwing himself backwards to gain space, hand reaching into his pocket. It only took Bazett a moment to realise the trick, before she charged right back at him.

A moment was a little too long.

He pulled out one of the seeds he'd taken earlier, hurling it between them and shouting the activation aria as he did so.

"Bloom, flower of Thanatos!"

The seeds had been yet another point of contention between Rin and himself, though he admitted she was a little justified on this one, given that he was essentially copying the Tohsaka clan's most prized ability. And copying it badly, which was probably what made Rin angriest.

When he'd tried, in a fit of curiosity, to directly place prana into a gem, the results had been quite… explosive. Or simply failed outright. So he'd come up with another plan. All living things held prana; Birds, fish, dogs and more importantly, plants. With his unique element, forcing more prana into a living thing than it could normally hold was possible, opening up a whole new range of options. The culmination of this had been the creation of his own, rather lacklustre, Mystic Code.

The seed expanded, the prana within fuelling it's development to an impossible speed. Within seconds, a full bush had grown, the deadly nightroses (name no longer subject to change) lashing around, the magical command imprinted on them driving them to attack anything without the od of their creator. While it would be utterly ineffective against a Servant, a normal human would have to act with caution around the plant.

Bazett ground to a halt, leaping backwards to avoid the frantic whips of the thorn laden vines. Two more seeds shot out of his hand, forming a rough perimeter around the older magus and trapping her within a ring of the frenzied plants.

It barely slowed the magus. She charged forward, protecting her face with upraised fists. Her fists lashed out, their sheer speed and solidity enough to snap and destroy even the toughest parts of the plant. She burst through the bush all but unharmed, save for a single, tiny scratch on her face, barely deep enough to draw blood. Not even enough to draw the attention of a fighter of her calibre.

That was, if the deadly nightroses thorns didn't secrete a horribly potent toxin.

Shirou met Bazett's charge silently, taking on a defensive stance. He faced her flurry of blows head on, dodging what he could and blocking what he couldn't. A fist lashed out towards his head, but he twisted aside, dodging backwards and forcing Bazett to pursue. A sudden kick nearly caught him off guard, his arm only just stopping it before it collided with his ribs. He grimaced at the pain, but reclaimed his footing. It would only take a short time for the effects of the poison to start showing.

Until then, he just had to wait.

* * *

><p>Assassin leapt up into the tree, glaring down at the Servant below. So far, neither she nor Lancer had managed to land a single blow on the other, and frustration was beginning to show. Despite the fact that she'd kept her offensive up almost nonstop, Lancer's defence was almost unbreakable, his lance blocking even the fastest salvo of attacks.<p>

And while she wasted time here, Shirou was fighting for his life against that other Master. Her teeth clenched at the thought of Shirou, battered and bleeding, lying at the feet of the other magus. No. _No_. That wouldn't happen. She wouldn't let it. She kicked off the tree, her knives blurring as she deflected the red lance. Lancer retreated, keeping her at bay with the tip of the thrusting lance but she gained ground steadily, her frantic dodging and parrying allowing her to slowly close the distance.

Lancer suddenly twisted, striking her with the shaft of the spear. Her right hand knife snapped up to block it on instinct, but the force of the blow still staggered her, throwing her to the side. Lancer leapt on that like a beast on wounded prey, continuing with a savage rain of attacks that refused to allow her to regain her footing. A single jab slammed forward, slicing her shoulder and sending a spray of blood across the ground. A second cut her arm and a third very nearly took her throat. Finally, she managed to get her feet under her, throwing herself backwards to escape the seemingly endless combo that Lancer had trapped her in.

The blue warrior's face had twisted into a vicious grin as he advanced, crimson spear cutting through the evening air. She knew why. Servant or not, these wounds would slow her down. More than that, Lancer was adapting, getting used to her speed and agility, learning how to adjust his blows. Essentially, she was fighting a losing battle.

So she'd change the terms of the battle.

The other Servant paused, no doubt sensing her bloodlust increasing. She bared her teeth at him, a twisted parody of a mischievous smile, then spoke.

"The Mist."

The world shattered.

* * *

><p>He batted aside her punch, responding with his own jab to her torso. Bazett gave a grunt of pain as his fist sunk into her stomach, but managed to retreat back, reforming her guard. Her movements had been slowing down, losing their crisp edge. More than that, even standing the other magus was unsteady, her body swaying slightly. The left side of her face, where she'd been cut, was a swollen mess.<p>

He went on the offensive, a flurry of punches like the one he'd used against his father just the day before, lighter blows concealing the heavier ones. It was far more effective here, Bazett's crippled reaction speed just not being quite able to keep up with him, despite her still superior speed and strength. She stumbled back and he pressed the attack, driving his knee into her gut. She doubled over slightly from the force of the strike, exposing her head.

Instantly, he stepped back, lining his fist up with her skull and clenching it tight. He lunged forward, fist streaking towards her head as a blur in the dim light. Bazett's hand shot up, but it was too late. Even if she drove the blow aside, he could simply follow it up with another. Except her strike went upwards, past his own blow. Despite himself, his eyes followed the movement and rested upon the destination.

That small metal orb, still innocuously floating above her shoulder, a faint nimbus of electricity fading around it.

"Fragarach!"

A flare of light exploded as she struck the sphere, the metal shifting, taking on the form of strange sword. He barely had time to register the transformation before the blade shot forward, slamming deep into his chest.

For a moment he stood, attack abandoned as he stared at the weapon jutting out of his flesh. _That… that shouldn't be there_, he thought dully, legs giving out beneath him.

He crumpled to the grass, head smacking against the ground as his vision went black.

* * *

><p><em>T<em>_hrob_.

Flesh, physically no different from that which surrounded it, began to pulse as circuits long left unused began to open. Once again, they had a purpose to fulfil.

A wish was not merely a one time event. It was a desire to shape the world to the wisher's will, to make something that is not so, so. To have one granted is a reformation of reality, a miracle in its own right.

Long ago, a boy had wished to live. A spirit had wished for salvation from its role. Their wishes were one and the same.

And they had not ended.

* * *

><p>Bazett staggered back upright, her now burnt hand just another injury on her battered body. The boy had crumpled when hit by Fragarach, but he wasn't dead. Not yet anyway.<p>

Fragarach, Gouging Sword of the War God, the only Noble Phantasm that could be used by humans in this day and age. Known also as The Answerer, it was the ultimate form of counterattack, a weapon that warped causality itself in order to always strike first in response to an enemies strongest attack, slaying them in a single blow. But she'd been forced to use it as nothing more than an normal attack in this case. The boy had only been punching her after all, not using some kind of supreme trump card.

Still, even that was more than enough for a human. Though he had proven incredibly resilient and surprisingly skilled. Those bushes were a nasty trick too. She was a little disappointed in herself though. Truth be told, she'd been hoping she could have knocked him out at the fight's beginning, at which point she could have taken his seals without killing him. Kotomine was, after all, if not a friend, then at least someone she deeply respected. Delivering his son's corpse to him wasn't something she had wanted to do, but circumstance had forced her hand. He'd trained the boy, Shirou, a little too well. She walked towards the prone Master, footsteps still unsteady. At this point, the kindest thing she could do for him was to finish him off-

Her vision went white.

She stepped back, raising her fists defensively in preparation for some new attack. None came, and she realised that only mist had surrounded her. Still, it definitely wasn't natural. It had come too fast, out of nowhere, blanketing the park in white. She could barely see a few feet in front of her, with even Shirou's body being little more than a dark blur.

She could still see him though, and if this mist had been created by his Servant, which it almost certainly _had, _killing him would bring it to an abrupt end.

She moved towards him, then stopped once more as a sudden pain flared on her face. A thin trickle of liquid began to run down her cheek, and when she brought her hand away from it, the crimson colour told her exactly what it was.

Similar jabs of pain were occurring all across her body as the wounds she suffered in the fight began to bleed afresh, seemingly worsening without any stimulus. Even the parts of her that had avoided injury began to feel uncomfortable, as if something was prickling them.

_It's the mist_, she realised. Now that she stretched her senses out, an incredibly powerful bounded field had surrounded the area, no doubt the cause of the mist that was attacking her. That just made finishing off the Master in front all the more important. She moved her gaze away from her hand and towards the prone-

He wasn't there.

She whirled, once again adopting a defensive stance. She glanced around, gaze seeking a telltale shadow in the mist. It was getting harder to concentrate, both the poison within and the mist without taking their toll on her body and mind. Despite the clammy fog, sweat was running down her brow and her cheek felt like it was burning. Whatever that toxin was, it was fairly effective. She'd need to end this soon, or she'd be simply worn down.

"Analysis start."

She turned quickly at the voice, seeking its source. Whether by luck or design the mist thinned slightly, revealing a shadowy figure little more than ten metres from her position. She charged.

* * *

><p>Shirou's eyes opened. He found that curious. He'd been fairly sure that they weren't going to do so again, what with the sword currently lodged in him. At that, the memories of the past few minutes returned with a jolt and he sprang to his feet, pose wary. A quick glance down confirmed that the sword was gone and-<p>

He stared. Where the blade had pierced him, the flesh was bubbling, turning and twisting like a roiling sea. Prana both foreign and hauntingly familiar flowed through the injury and he realised that it had already been mostly healed. Which would have been fine, if he'd been the one that did it.

He dismissed it from his mind. He could investigate it later, somewhere safer. He looked around, peering through the mist. That was new too, but it seemed to be working in his favour so far, concealing him and deadening the sound of his movements. If Bazett was still nearby, she'd have as hard a time finding him in this as he would her. He stalked off slowly, ever cautious. The mist seemed to thicken and thin at random intervals wherever it pleased, sometimes nearly opaque, other times barely even visible.

He shook his head in frustration. Even if could find her in this, he wasn't sure that he could win. While the hole in his chest had somehow healed, he was still aching from the earlier beating Bazett had given him, which annoyingly enough, hadn't healed. He sighed. If he was going to have a mysterious healing factor, couldn't it at least be all inclusive?

Still, the point remained that he needed an edge. Or several.

His Origin had been described as 'Flesh', but that wasn't quite correct. While his element was no doubt 'Flesh', Origin's were the very orientation of the soul. They rarely fell into such material things as 'Fire'or 'Flesh'. In fact, his Origin was more likely along the lines of 'A talent for working with flesh'. Had he never been introduced to magecraft, it was likely that he would have become a surgeon or gardener or perhaps a butcher. Anything that allowed him to work with and manipulate living tissues.

But he was a magus. And that meant he could do things with flesh that no surgeon ever could. Particularly with his own.

"Analysis start."

He turned his gaze on his arms. They were quite damaged, the defensive battle he'd fought against Bazett having taken its toll. That wasn't a problem though; what he had in mind would heal them. Instead, he felt past the wounds, examining the very form of the limbs themselves, how to change and how to alter. After a brief moment, he was satisfied.

"The body is a tapestry." He recited the aria calmly and his prana surged into his arms. Bones began to crack, reshaping as his will had demanded. Muscles strengthened and thickened, new cells being created at an impossible rate through his prana, becoming whatever he needed them to be, bone or flesh. Luckily, the process was painless, if slightly odd to watch. It was still as interesting an experience as ever though, watching his very flesh ripple and reform before his eyes.

So interesting in fact, that he didn't register Bazett's presence until it was too late.

Her fist sunk deep into his gut and he nearly vomited from the force of the blow. Her leg swept round in a follow-through, catching him in the ribs. The newfound pain as he was blown to the side suggested that he'd just acquired a new collection of broken ribs. He gasped as he hit the ground, pain lancing through his side like daggers under his flesh.

He rolled to the side as Bazett drove her heel into the ground where'd he'd lain just a second before. She advanced mercilessly, fist jabbing at his skull as he forced himself to stand, body screaming in pain. He lashed out, his hand cutting into the flesh of her arm. Or rather, what had been his hand.

Gone were his fingers. In their place, jagged spars sprouted from his hand, lengths of bone sharpened far beyond any natural weapon. Not that his claws resembled anything in the animal kingdom to begin with. They did not hold prey, they could not grasp or use tools, nor would they ever require something as mundane as sharpening. They were unnatural weapons, made to lacerate and cut flesh.

He gave Bazett a vicious grin as she retreated, no doubt trying to account this new turn of events into her strategy.

"Round two?" He asked, flexing his new weapons.

He didn't give her a chance to reply, surging forward, claws slashing furiously.

* * *

><p>Assassin twirled, knives flashing through the fog. Lancer brought the haft of his weapon up, blocking the strikes and she retreated, fading back into the mist.<p>

For all those within the field, the mist was a hindrance, obscuring visibility and steadily weakening them. While Shirou had been granted safe passage from the truly harmful effects of the mist, he would still be as lost as any other within the fog. Well, any other apart from her.

The Mist was her Noble Phantasm after all, the representation of the 'mist of death' that had been formed from a hundred years of pollution. She could see through it with ease, and move through the vapours with confidence, her prey's location ever known. Combined with the Assassin class ability of concealing their presence, The Mist made her all but undetectable to other Servant's, even up to the very point of her attack itself. The perfect hunting ground.

She approached the spearman carefully, knives poised. Lancer had taken a ready pose, spear lowered and stance tense. She noted that he'd closed his eyes, apparently realising that they were effectively useless in the mist. He really did catch on fast, not that it'd help him.

She flipped a knife in her hand, launching it towards him. The moment the weapon left her hands, she ran, strafing around to his back. Lancer's spear shot up as the projectile struck, deflecting it into the ground at the exact moment that she leapt at him, blade poised. To his credit, the spearman seemed to realise his mistake, swivelling to block her. But he wasn't quite as fast as he'd been. Even if the Mist wasn't sufficient to truly hurt him, it still hampered his movements, decreasing his agility by a full rank.

Her blade bit into his shoulder and Lancer snarled, lashing out at her with the crimson spear. It was pointless though. She'd already retreated, mist hiding her form. Next time she'd strike his other shoulder, and then his legs, wearing him down piece by piece...

Suddenly, the other Servant froze completely.

"Oh, damn it!" The blue-clothed Servant roared, leaping off as fast as his muscles could carry him. For a moment, Assassin was confused, then the connections fell in place. Lancer was heading towards Shirou.

Instantly, panic filled her mind and she sprung forwards, gaining on the spearman. She wouldn't let him hurt Shirou! She wouldn't! Through the connection in her mind, she'd felt the wounds he'd suffered, and the fact that she'd been unable to help had been tearing at her. But if Lancer reached him first, and had time to line up a killing blow…

Her mind nearly shut down at the thought, and she sped up, not even bothering to conceal her presence.

* * *

><p>Yet another spray of blood wet the ground as Bazett's attack was deflected by his claws. The woman was breathing hard now, seemingly barely able to stand, yet still fighting. Shirou grinned, a quick flick of his claws splattering the earth with yet more of the crimson liquid. He was feeling surprisingly calm about this. In fact, he'd even say that he was enjoying himself. A fierce excitement was sweeping through his body as they fought, and he could feel his pulse beating strongly. He just felt… so very alive.<p>

His arm shot out, and Bazett ducked. His other hand swept round, reaching for her face even as she tried to dodge. She'd lost that incredible speed now though, with blood loss, poison and the ever-present mist bringing her ever closer to death. She avoided the worst of the blow, but his nails still carved a shallow furrow into her shoulder.

He launched attack after attack, only growing faster and faster as she weaved through his strikes. She'd all but given up on offence now, merely attempting to preserve her life. It wasn't enough. He was still landing hits, and each and every one merely drove Bazett closer to the edge. It wouldn't be long before her body simply gave out, reinforcement or no reinforcement. He pressed his advantage, claw streaking forwards to rip out her throat. She moved back, arms raised to block the strike, protecting her most vulnerable point-

She slipped.

It was such a simple thing to do. The grass had grown damp from the fog, and her muscles weak from exertion. It was so easy to do. But the look in her eyes told him what he already knew. _Game over, Bazett_.

A backhand caught her on the chest, just below her breasts, the claw ripping through her clothes and into the flesh beneath, cutting into the very bone of her ribs. The sheer force of the blow picked her up, propelling her across the wet grass. He didn't hesitate, sprinting after her, one claw upraised to end her life.

The haft of a red lance caught him less than a second before the blow landed, blasting him through the air, yet more ribs shattered. He slammed into the trunk of a tree, eyesight blacking out. He gasped for air, a burning pain spreading across his torso.

"Shirou!" He looked up, his vision still hazy. Assassin stood in front of him in a guard stance, blades ready. Her back was to him, but he could hear the concern in her voice. "Are you alright?"

_Why do people always ask that? _He thought. _Isn't it sorta obvious that I'm _really_ not feeling that great right now? _He swallowed the words though. The question had been asked with good intentions.

"I'm… ok. Thanks." he responded, dragging himself to his feet, pain shooting through him once again. "You?"

"I'm fine." She said and he nodded. She certainly didn't have any obvious major wounds at least. He turned his attention to the current situation.

Little more than twenty meters from his position, Lancer stood, Bazett held under one arm. The look on his face suggested he knew _exactly_ how damn precarious the situation was for him. Even holding Bazett, he could cross the short distance faster than Shirou could breathe, likely impaling him with a single thrust. He certainly didn't think he could block it, not with his ribs feeling like someone had taken a hammer to them. But that wouldn't happen, not with Assassin primed to move. And if he tried to guard Bazett while fighting, it was obvious that the fight could only go one way. It would only take a single lucky blow, and he'd be out of a Master.

He couldn't even run. Assassin would be on him like a wolf on a wounded dear, and from behind, Bazett would be easy prey. It would take a miracle for him to survive this, let alone win.

For a moment, Lancer's shoulders slumped, as if he'd accepted defeat. Then came the bloodlust.

A wave of it, nearly palpable in its intensity swept out from the spearman, his red eyes fierce and hateful. Shirou remembered something he'd learnt a long time ago. A desperate beast was the most dangerous one of all.

The grip on his lance shifted slightly, making the weapon appear more like a javelin than a spear. "Hey, kid."

Shirou met the gleaming crimson gaze. "Yes?"

"You and Assassin fought well, so I'm going to make an offer." Lancer paused for effect. "Let me take Bazett away and we'll have a rematch later, where we can really pull out all the stops. I'll swear on it."

"And if I refuse?" Shirou asked calmly, face expressionless.

"Then chances are; none of us are going to walk out of here alive." The reply was flat and honest. It wasn't a threat, just a simple statement.

Shirou paused, considering. Lancer wasn't bluffing. For one thing, the warrior simply didn't seem like the type to try and talk his way out of a bad situation. If he said that he could kill his opponents before he died, then he likely could. On the other hand, they were in a enormously favourable situation. Despite his wounds, he was still far more combat capable than Bazett was right now. If need be, he could simply shut down his sense of pain for a while and deal with whatever wounds he got later. And even Lancer had a few injuries on him. If he gave Assassin support with a Command Seal, it was quite possible that they could finish this before Lancer pulled off whatever trick he had in mind.

He opened his mouth to reply, when yet another feeling of dread pulled at his mind. He spun, a movement echoed by the two Servants, as a vast, impossibly vast, amount of mana began to gather, forming a radiance that pierced the mist. A divine light that spoke of absolute power, a strength that surpassed all others.

He felt fear.

The revelation shocked him. He'd never felt fear. Nervousness, concern, tension, yes. But never a true fear for his life. Not Lancer, not Rin, not even Gilgamesh in his rare moments of true anger had ever created such a response. Yet that golden light, visible even through the fog, filled him with primal terror.

_I know it… I know that light! _He had no memory of it, yet it was so terribly familiar, a harbinger of destruction given form.

Suddenly, the mana compressed, forming a blast of energy hurtling towards them. The bounded field shattered as the energy struck it, the magecraft simply unable to maintain it's form under such pressure. The mist cleared almost immediately, revealing the piercing golden ray in all its terrible glory.

It sped between the two groups, annihilating all that stood in its path. A spray of rocks and rubble was scattered by the waves of force emanating from the blast. Assassin stood in front of him, her blades shielding him from the worst of the debris, but she couldn't block the sheer intensity of the light and for a moment, he covered his eyes.

Almost as suddenly as it had come, the light vanished, leaving a scene of devastation. A deep furrow had been ripped into the ground, the earth simply annihilated by the sheer power of the attack. Loose bits of stone and plant, blown away by simply being near the light, littered the area. His gaze flicked up. Lancer seemed to have taken the chance to escape, no doubt using that great speed of his to take Bazett to a safe area, using the attack as an impromptu distraction.

"Shirou." He turned as Assassin spoke, wincing slightly at the pain even that small movement caused. "The enemy Servant approaches."

His eyes followed the path of the destruction, moving along the straight line to the source of the light. He saw her, and his throat constricted.

She was radiant, even under the dim starlight. Shining armour, either silver or polished steel glowed as she walked towards them. Hair like spun gold. But it was her aura that drew his attention. It was not like Assassin's, which felt like blood, hate and spite. Nor Lancer's, with his animalistic bloodlust and savagery. It was raw, unrefined power given form. Magical energy rolled of her in waves, the air itself seeming to howl around her.

"You have got to be kidding me…" He breathed. He could tell at a glance. She was leagues above Assassin in terms of power. Even Lancer was nothing more than a dim glow next to her. If she attacked, he had no doubt that they'd be killed in seconds. And if she created that light again…

He shivered at the memory.

"Shirou." Assassin had moved in front of him again. "Retreat. I will hold her."

He was shaking his head before she'd even finished speaking. "She'll kill you, Assassin."

"Perhaps," The Servant agreed. "But I will obtain sufficient time for you to retreat to-"

"Not a chance." He interrupted, stepping up beside her. "I'm not abandoning you."

Assassin shot him a shocked look, surprise obvious on her face. She watched him for a second, as if expecting him to retract his words. When he didn't, she smiled a bright smile, the purest he'd ever seen on her face. It was beyond adorable, and he found himself unable to look away. She was beautiful. He wondered how he'd never noticed that before.

"Thank you, Shirou." She said, her smile not losing even a fragment of it's intensity as she spoke.

"It's… not a problem," He replied embarrassedly, looking away. "You can thank me after we deal with our new friend here."

He inclined his head towards the silver armoured Servant and Assassin nodded, still smiling happily. First though, he had to do something about this pain. Healing it would drain him of almost all his remaining prana, and without reinforcement he'd be utterly useless, so that was out. It looked like he was just going to have to go with his original plan.

"Analysis start."

He reached within himself, seeking that cluster of nerves at the top of his spine. Finding it, he grasped it, visualising it as a collection of switches. You simply had to turn the one's you didn't want off. He flicked one, and feeling vanished within his body. He rolled his arm, nodding in satisfaction as he felt nothing from it. Gingerly, he poked his ribs. Nothing.

It didn't fix anything, of course. In fact, it was incredibly dangerous, doing no more than concealing the pain while leaving the injuries untouched. But he didn't have much choice right now.

The Servant had nearly reached them, and he frowned as he noticed another figure next to her. He'd thought her alone. The girl standing next the Servant was like a doll, with fair white skin and silver hair that glistened softly in the light. From what he could tell, her clothes were of a fine make, their fine cut embroidered with gold patterns. In all honesty, she looked like a princess, or a fairy, her steps light and dainty next to her Servant.

She stopped ten metres from them, her Servant by her side. She said nothing, slowly raising her hand into the air.

"Heroine of love and justice, Ilyasviel von Einzbern, has arrived! Masters who would abuse their powers, beware!"

The excited shout shattered the still evening air, and his image of her as some kind of fairy.

"What." He replied dumbly, staring at the girl. Next to him, Assassin seemed to be having a similar reaction, watching at the girl with amazement. Despite the absurdity of the introduction, he recognised the name. Einzbern. One of the founders of the Holy Grail War, and perhaps the faction who sought the great device the most fanatically.

"Huhu," The girl, Ilya, laughed mischievously. "That's my introduction. Isn't it great?"

Shirou looked at the Servant next to her, who looked appropriately mortified, giving him a slightly apologetic nod. He turned his attention back to the girl. "It's… it's certainly distinctive, I'll give you that."

"That's right!" Ilya said, nodding. "An introduction has to be distinctive, so that the villains know who they're dealing with!"

"But if the villains know who they're dealing with, doesn't that mean they can prepare for you?" He asked. He was aware that he was being drawn into her pace, but her very presence seemed to make it impossible to stay within the bounds of normality.

The Servant beside the girl sighed at that. "You see, Ilya? He agrees with me. It's not a good idea to announce yourself every time you meet someo-"

"Boring~" Ilya said cheerily, cutting through the Servant's speech. "Saber, you're too serious about things like this. We went to all the trouble of getting their attention, we might as well go all out."

That told Shirou two things. The first was that the woman in armour was the Servant Saber, generally considered the strongest Servant. The second…

"Wait a second. That," He gestured at the huge crater stretching across the park, "Was to get our _attention_?"

"Nobody ever ignores us." Ilya said happily. He shot Saber a glance. She looked vaguely embarrassed, but nodded. He felt there was something wrong with the fact that an immensely powerful spirit from another era had more common sense than someone born in the current time, but didn't say anything.

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ilyasviel von-"

"Call me Ilya," The girl interrupted. "Ilyasviel's just too stuffy."

"Right. Well, it's nice to meet you, Ilya." He gave a stiff bow of greeting. While he couldn't feel it, he had little doubt that even that small bow had driven several shards of his ribs into his flesh. That'd be a bitch to heal. "I'm Kotomine Shirou, and this is Assassin." He gestured at the Servant standing next to him, who was still wary. He was glad at least one of the people here still seemed to be taking this seriously. "May I ask what your purpose is?

"Kotomine?" Ilya gave him an interested glance. "Now I _really_ want to talk to you. Oh. I suppose that answers your question as well, doesn't it?"

"That's all?" Shirou said, a little confused. Frankly, Ilya and Saber had them in a perfect position to wipe them out. He was injured, Assassin had used a fair portion of her prana in the battle and they had no real method of escape. And why had his family name inspired yet another reaction in yet another Master? Was his father that well known?

"That's all." Ilya confirmed.

"I see." He closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he opened them. "In that case, would you mind waiting for a second? I need to get rid of these."

He waved his claws in the air, and Ilya gave them an interested glance before nodding.

"You might want to look away," He said warningly. "It's not exactly a pretty process."

Despite that warning, it seemed like he had the full attention of everyone in the area. He sighed.

"Analysis start."

He looked down at his body, examining the new form he'd given his arms. After a few seconds, he nodded.

"The form returns to the weave." Instantly, his flesh began to heave, the bony claws retracting into his flesh, distorting the surface of his skin with their presence. Unneeded muscles and fats broke down, moving through his arms to gather at a single point. His bones once again to crack and reform, shards breaking off and moving towards the same point as the excess fat and muscle. His fingers reformed, fresh skin forming around them.

A few moments more, and he had a normal set of arms once more. Well, apart from the large, bulbous cyst each had, containing the unneeded biomass of his last transformation.

"I don't suppose either of you have a container?" He asked hopefully. Ilya and Saber shook their heads head, and he sighed mournfully. "Alright, pardon me for a moment."

He stepped behind a bush, crouching down and lowering his arms near to the ground. With a slight effort of will, the cysts opened, releasing a slurry of blood, bone and flesh. Another effort of will, and the now useless flaps of skin fell from his body. He gave the open wounds a brief glance. His analysis was still running, so he could heal a wound of this degree without another aria. He should probably see about patching himself up a little. If Ilya and Saber wanted to kill him, he couldn't stop them even if he had full prana reserves, so there wasn't really any point in _not _healing himself.

A few seconds later, he stood, body nearly completely restored. His prana reserves were now pretty much nonexistent though. And he still had more broken ribs than he'd like. Still, he was in better shape than he'd been a few minutes ago.

"Alright," he said, walking back towards Assassin. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's fine," Ilya said, dismissing the complaint with a wave. "I got to see something interesting."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he responded airily. "So where do you want to have this chat?"

Ilya shrugged. "Anywhere that's neutral territory will do. We've only just arrived in this city, so I don't really have a favourite place."

Shirou considered. He was tired, thirsty and really felt like sitting down. He didn't particularly mind where they went, but somewhere vaguely familiar would be nice.

Eventually, he came to a conclusion. He turned back to Saber and Ilya.

"Well, I know a place that does great Chinese…"

-End-


	7. Gathering

**A/N: So this chapter took a little longer than normal. There's a reason for that. University. To be more specific, I'm back at university now, which means that updates aren't going to be quite as fast as they were beforehand. Pumping out a chapter every four days just isn't realistic, what with essays, reports and revision.**

**That said, I still intend to keep up a fairly rapid pace.**

* * *

><p>Money had always been an issue for the Tohsaka family. Given that their particular brand of magecraft specialised in transferring prana into highly expensive jewels, and then blowing them up, this was to be expected. And so Tohsaka had been raised with a prudent financial mindset. Or, as Shirou would put it, she was miser. A penny-pincher. The type of person who'd wait for food to near the expiry date before buying, just to preserve that little extra money.<p>

Which was why she couldn't keep the horror completely off her face as Rider examined the 5000 yen note with a critical eye.

"So this is what they use for money nowadays?" Rider asked, tearing the note a little as she turned it round. Rin's eyebrow twitched, but she nodded.

"That's right. Most countries use paper money for larger sums."

"It's easier to carry than gold or coins, I'll give you that," Rider admitted grudgingly. "But I like having the weight of coinage in my pocket. It has a nicer feel to it, y'know?"

"Well, you'd have to carry a lot of coins to afford anything more than a snack in this day and age." Rin said, eyeing the note, which Rider was now twisting between her fingers. "Speaking of which, could you pass that back to me now?"

"Hmmm?" Rider said, apparently deep in thought. She glanced at the piece of paper. "I can't keep it?"

"No, you can't." The words came out more grated than Rin might have liked, given that she'd been aiming for perfect composure.

"Stingy." Rider complained, before she handed the note back with a dissatisfied sigh. "How did I ever get called by a Master who worries about such a tiny amount of money? It's so annoying…"

"That's my line!" Rin snapped, glaring at the Servant. "I didn't summon a Servant to drain my funds!"

"Haaaah." Rider sighed wearily. "Fine, fine. I'll restrain myself a little."

Tohsaka Rin gave the Servant a a suspicious glare. She suspected that her idea of 'restraint', and the Heroic Spirit's idea of 'restraint' were wildly different. Still, if worst came to worst, she had her command seals. There wasn't a hope in hell that she was going to let her own Servant bankrupt her.

Rider got up from the couch where'd she'd been sitting, stretching as she rose.

"Well then Master, I think that's quite enough sitting around, don't you agree?"

Rin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we should head out and check out the town," Rider said cheerily. "I want to see how the world's changed."

Rin stared at the Servant blankly. "You want to see _what?"_

"How the world's changed." Rider repeated. "It's been, what? Three, four hundred years since I've been alive? And I'm in a whole new country to boot. How couldn't I want to see the new world?"

Rin sighed wearily. While the summoning hadn't been nearly as bad as she'd expected, she still didn't really feel like going out that night, especially for little more than sightseeing. It was too late for one, and the day had been tiring anyway.

"Maybe tomorrow," She replied. "I'm just too tired right now."

"Oh?" Rider raised an eyebrow. "Bad day?"

"Not bad, just exhausting." Rin corrected. "And frankly, this might be the last good night's sleep I get."

"Fair enough." Rider said, looking a little put out despite her agreement. "I suppose I can get a good look tomorrow anyway."

Rin nodded. Of course, there was no way that she was going to school without Rider. While being a member of one of the three founding families of the Grail War had advantages, it practically declared the fact that she was a Master. Now that she was officially part of the War, it wouldn't be safe to be anywhere without a Servant guarding her.

She couldn't help but feel she was forgetting something though…

A memory of Kotomine Shirou, happily asking to borrow some of her clothes, came to mind.

Her eyes widened. _Oh._

"Ah, Rider." The Servant gave her a curious glance, and she hesitated, not entirely sure what to say. "You should know about this. There's another Master at my school, a boy named Kotomine Shirou."

"Really?" Rider's lips curved into a smile. "Well now, I guess that makes our first target a little easier to pick, huh?"

Rin was shaking her head before Rider had even finished. "He's not an enemy."

Rider's eyebrow went up once more. "Really? I'd quite like an explanation to that. I was under the impression that all the other Masters were our competitors in the War."

"He's an old friend," She explained. "We'll probably be working with him, and if not, we'll at least have a truce for most of the War."

"Can he be trusted?" Rider asked, crossing her arms. It was the first time since she'd been summoned that the Servant looked serious, her face expressionless. It was a little gratifying to see.

"I've known Shirou all my life," Rin said, meeting the Servants eyes. "He's an idiot sometimes, but I'd trust him with my life."

"Is that so?" A mischievous smirk crossed the older woman's face. "You seem to have great faith in this 'Shirou'."

"So what?" Rin asked, a little more aggressively than intended.

"It's nothing," Rider responded, her smirk growing wider. "I was just thinking how nice it must be to have someone you feel so strongly about."

"What? No!" Rin shook her head frantically, blush staining her face. "There's nothing like that between me and Shirou!"

"No?" Rider gave a little shrug. "Then why are you blushing? Surely my perfect little Master isn't thinking of something inappropriate?"

"I'm not!" Rin shouted, fists clenched as she glared at the Servant. A flash of an imagined image, one that involved a white dress and a church crossed her mind briefly. It was wildly inappropriate. Her blush deepened.

"Oh, how cute!" Rider said excitedly at that, clasping her hands. "You really thought of something! Do tell."

"I didn't!" Rin backed away, the hand bearing the command seals held up like a ward. "And if you say another word about this, it'll be the last one for the duration of the war!"

"Now, now," The Heroic Spirit said in a placating manner, as if calming down a petulant child. "I was just teasing. I'm sure your relationship with Shirou is nothing more than friendship."

"That's right." Rin confirmed, her face beginning to return to a paler shade. "We're just good friends. That's all."

"Of course." Rider agreed, plopping back onto the chair, pulling out her pipe from that red jacket. She lit it with a match taken from another pocket, then leaned back, drawing in a long pull of smoke. Her eyes closed as she savoured it. She appeared somewhat satisfied, which irked Rin a little.

She watched the Servant for a few seconds, then turned away in satisfaction. It looked like she'd manage to shut the Servant up, at least for now. And without using a command seal, which was more important. She felt the urge to slap herself at the memory. She'd almost used a command seal, a power nearly on par with True Magic, over something as trivial as her Servant teasing her a little. On the actual day of summoning! What kind of idiot would do something like that?

Rin gave a little sigh as she tromped back to her room. If this was just her first day, she really wasn't looking forward to the rest of the War.

* * *

><p>Shirou slipped back into his seat with a relieved sigh. The walk back the Chinese restaurant hadn't been exactly fun, what with the shards of rib floating around in his chest, but he'd persevered. While he'd been tempted to ask Ilya for help, he doubted that allowing another Master to tamper with his body was a good idea, no matter how much of a 'Hero of Justice' she proclaimed herself to be. So his bones remained in… less than perfect shape.<p>

More than that, he'd had to explain to Batsu-san about the blood on him. While he'd cleaned as much of it off as possible, there were still a few splatters which stubbornly refused to vanish. He'd also closed his coat, disguising the rather large hole in his top. His story of leaping in to save the two girls with him from muggers had been accepted though, with the manager even giving him a hearty congratulatory slap on the back. Which had hurt. A lot.

The snow white girl picked up a menu as she sat opposite him, browsing over it with every sign of interest. To his surprise, Saber did the same, if anything even more interested than her Master in the contents of the menu.

"Hmmm…" Ilya mused. "I've never really had much Chinese before. Do you recommend anything?"

"It's all good," He replied, adjusting his sitting position a little. "Except for the Mapo tofu."

"Is it hot?" Ilya asked curiously, peering at him over the sheet of paper in her hands. He fought down a laugh at that. Even his crusade against the over-abundance of spices in Batsu-san's food hadn't so much as touched the Mapo tofu. If anything, it had only driven the man to make it worse. _Hot? The fires of the sun as they burn your skin to ash are hot. Batsu-san's Mapo tofu has long since surpassed the ability of human vocabulary to describe in such a fashion._

"Fairly hot," he responded casually. "I'd advise something else anyway."

"Well, I like spicy foods," Ilya declared, slamming the menu down. "Besides, you've got my interest now!"

"It's your funeral," He said, shrugging. That was one Master down then. Ilya obviously wouldn't survive the meal. And there he'd been thinking that Saber might be a threat.

A tug at his sleeve drew his attention, and he turned to Assassin. The Servant's gaze alternated between him and the menu.

"Do you want something too, Assassin?" He asked. The look on her face certainly suggested that she did.

Assassin seemed to pause in thought for a second, then nodded. "I would like more of what I had earlier."

Shirou grimaced slightly as he pulled his wallet out. He could already feel what little remained of his savings dwindling. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

_Somewhere, Rin's laughing at me_, He thought sourly, memories of all the times he'd teased her about her stinginess with money rising to the surface. He could almost imagine her pointing a finger at him, a wide 'Who's laughing now?' smirk across her face.

They ordered soon after, one of the waitresses taking their requests and departing back to the kitchen. After she was gone, Shirou turned to Ilya.

"We should be left alone for a while now." He said, meeting the little girls eyes. "Can I ask what this is about?"

Ilya watched him carefully for a second, then leaned back. "That's simple." She replied. "I want to know why you're fighting in the Grail War."

Shirou frowned slightly at that. Why he was fighting in the Grail War? It seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things, a reason important only to him and him alone. While knowing it might give a slight advantage to another Master, Ilya could have simply had him killed earlier if she'd been of the mind.

"Really?" He asked doubtfully. "That's it?"

"Yep." The girl stated cheerfully. "I actually wanted to ask the Master you were fighting as well, but her Servant made a run for it too quickly." She paused suddenly, looking thoughtful. "Well, I've actually got a few other questions for you personally, but they can wait."

Shirou closed his eyes. Around the table, everyone was silent, their attention seemingly fixed on him. _The reason I'm fighting, huh?_

"There's a bit of a story to that," He said finally, eyes opening. "And it's not particularly interesting."

"Well, I want to hear it anyway." Ilya responded firmly.

"Alright." He folded his arms. "My earliest memory is that of a burning city. Fuyuki City"

The air at the table froze slightly at that, with Ilya looking at him curiously, and Saber suddenly looking like the bottom had fallen out of her stomach. Assassin fixed him with her gaze, her attention clearly focused on him.

"For all intents and purposes, my life started there, amidst the flames and screams of people dying." He gave a small, sardonic smile. "It wasn't the best start I could have asked for, but there you go."

The silence around the table remained, so he continued. "From the moment I heard about it, I wanted to experience the War myself, to know what drove the previous battle to that conclusion. Why did the combatants of the Fourth War fight? Was such a thing what they wanted? Was the situation that intense? Is the Holy Grail War that exciting? Is it fun? What was it like to battle against the greatest figures in human history, Heroic Spirits ascended to the Throne of Heroes? To war with them for a single, absolute wish?"

He gave a small, embarrassed smile. "It was a childish curiosity, but it drove me like a whip lashing at my back. I spent my life preparing for it, readying myself for a battle that may not even have come. But," He turned his gaze upon Ilya. "It did come. So to answer your question, I'm fighting in the Holy Grail War _because _it's the Holy Grail War. It made me who I am. And more importantly, I can't just ignore something on this scale, not something that offers so many new sights and sounds, ones that can't be found anywhere else."

"So…" Ilya said, shaking off the maudlin air that was permeating the table. "You're just fighting the War for the experience itself? You don't want the Grail?"

"I don't particularly care for it one way or another." He said calmly. "I don't have a wish I want granted, and I wouldn't object to seeing someone else make a wish on the thing. That would be interesting in it's own way."

"Then-" Ilya began to speak, but he cut across her.

"But I still intend to win. After all, Assassin answered my call because she wanted the Grail. I owe it to her to aim for victory." He turned to the Servant. "Right?"

Assassin looked at him, then slowly nodded. "…Yes."

It occurred to him, as Assassin said that, that he didn't know what Assassin actually wanted from the Grail. In fact, Assassin was still so very much a mystery to him. While he was beginning to get an idea of her personality, her past and her reasons for competing in the Grail War were unknown to him, and she wasn't exactly being talkative on the matter. He frowned slightly at that. While he didn't want to force her on this, he couldn't help but feel that he should know why she was fighting. _Later then, after I've finished with Ilya._

Ilya was quiet now, apparently deliberating internally. Eventually, she nodded. "Thank you for telling me. It was… enlightening."

"It's fine." Shirou said, waving away the thanks. "I have a question myself now, if you don't mind."

Ilya looked at him curiously. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." He leant forward, gaze alternating between Ilya and her Servant. "When we introduced ourselves, you were interested in the fact that my family name is Kotomine. Why?"

Ilya hesitated, but spoke up after a few seconds. "Do you know of Emiya Kiritsugu?"

Shirou almost laughed. The Magus Killer, feared for his ruthless extermination of those who's actions brought harm on others. The man who had forced his Servant to destroy the Grail, bringing destruction upon Fuyuki City. How could he not know Emiya Kiritsugu?

"I do." He replied eventually.

"He was my father." Ilya continued, watching him carefully. Genuine surprise filled Shirou's mind at that.

His father had told him stories about his rivalry with Emiya Kiritsugu, about their battle beneath the Grail, each striving to prove themselves worthy of the artefact. He'd spoken of the magi's skill with firearms, his magecraft and his sheer determination with something like respect, a rare thing for Kotomine Kirei to have. But he'd never mentioned that Kiritsugu had a wife or child, never spoken about the relationships that the man had.

A thought struck him. If Kotomine Kirei had told him about Emiya Kiritsugu, and the rivalry his father felt had been reciprocated, then was it not possible that Emiya Kiritsugu had told his daughter about Kotomine Kirei? In fact, her reaction to his name practically guaranteed that such a thing had occurred.

"I see." He said emotionlessly, refusing to let either his surprise or newfound concern show on his face. "Well, that's unexpected." An understatement, but he honestly couldn't think of anything else to say.

Ilya made an odd expression at that. He blinked. She seemed… guilty? Defensive?

"Is something wrong?" The snow white girl paused at that, then inclined her head in affirmation.

"I thought you'd be angrier." She said, looking a little awkward. "I mean, my father was the man who was responsible for the fire. If it weren't for him, you'd still have your family. You'd still have a normal life."

Shirou shrugged. "I don't remember my biological family, or my old life. For all I know, they were horribly abusive and I was the very picture of misery."

"But, you don't know that for certa-"

"No. I don't. But I don't know that I was happy either." He spoke across her, voice firm. "What is certain is that I like my life as it is now. And that if your father hadn't done what he did, I'd be exactly what you said: a normal person, living a life with no awareness of the hidden conflicts in the world around me. I can't imagine living like that. Frankly, I have no desire to."

Ilya shook her head. "Even so…"

"Should I have called your father a monster, decried him as a fiend? Should I have lashed out at you as a substitute for some fierce anger? Would that help? Would it make you feel better?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "From what I've heard of him, Emiya Kiritsugu wasn't the type to revel in meaningless cruelty to innocents. Didn't he have reasons for unleashing the Grail?"

"Yes." Ilya responded. "He did. And doing what he did haunted him to his grave."

"Then there you go." Shirou said, shrugging. "I can't speak for anyone else, but you don't have to defend your father's honour from me."

"Is that so?" He turned to face the new speaker. Saber met his gaze head on. He shivered slightly. She unnerved him in a way that no-one else could. Even now, when she seemed uncertain talking to him, a primal fear was running down his spine. He couldn't place the reason. If anything, Saber was the least… dark Heroic Spirit he'd ever met. But that radiance worried him far more than Assassin's spite, or Lancer's animalistic rage. "You truly hold no grudge?"

"That's right." He took a sip of water, calming his nerves somewhat. "I mean, I do want to want to know _why _he did it, but I don't have any attachments to my life before the fire."

Saber seemed slightly relieved at that, her pose relaxing somewhat. Ilya meanwhile, was watching him thoughtfully. After a time, she gave a satisfied nod, as if she'd confirmed something.

"I thought it when we met, but you're not a bad guy, are you? You're a little twisted, but not evil."

Shirou smiled at the question. "Well, I can't make any claims to being a Hero like yourself, but I'm not using orphans to fuel my kitten mulching machine either."

Ilya gave a small giggle, then grinned. "Well, you're not like your father at any rate, so I can let you live for now."

The room went silent.

Assassin's pose changed subtly, her near slouch becoming far more predatory. The movement didn't go unnoticed by Saber, who shifted, her hand clenching around her invisible weapon as she levelling a fierce glare at the other Servant. If Assassin seemed bothered by this, she didn't show it, her own gaze hot with bloodlust as she eyed the Einzbern girl.

Shirou sighed, grinding his face into the palm of his hand. "Ilya, was the 'for now' really necessary?"

Ilya shrugged. "I'm probably going to have to kill you at a later date," She said cheerfully. "But I quite like you, so I'm not going to do it now."

_How kind of you, _Shirou thought dryly. _Truly you are the very model of generosity and goodwill. _He suppressed the urge to say it. Antagonising Ilya, particularly with Saber staring over her shoulder like a hawk, seemed like a bad idea.

"Well," He replied casually. "At least you're honest."

Ilya giggled mischievously once more, the laughter striking a harsh contrast with the tension building on the table.

"Ummm…" They turned as one to face the waitress holding a tray, their food laid on it. The woman was obviously nervous, instincts detecting the murderous intent lashing around the table, even if she herself wasn't capable of consciously placing it's source. "E-excuse me."

"Ah, thanks. I'll give you a hand." Shirou said, taking two of the plates from the tray, laying them in front of himself and Assassin, then repeating the process for Ilya and Saber's dishes. The waitress mumbled some thanks, then rapidly retreated from the table.

Even the newly placed food didn't alleviate the tension much, Assassin still staring at Ilya with bloodlust and Saber still warning the other Servant off with. Shirou sighed. He hadn't ordered much to eat, his wounds still aching from the battle with Bazett, but the sheer tension would make this meal impossible to enjoy from any perspective.

"Assassin, calm down." He reached out, touching her arm gently. She swivelled, watching him. "Ilya's not going to have me executed here and now, OK?"

The Servant hesitated a moment, then relaxed somewhat, her bloodlust fading. She still moved her seat a little closer to his before starting to eat though. Saber remained cautious for a little while longer, but eventually seemed to accept that Assassin had genuinely calmed down, and attacked her food with a fervour.

As they ate, Shirou became aware of two things. The first was that Ilya actually seemed capable of both eating and enjoying the Mapo tofu, a feat he had thought possible only for his father. The second was Saber.

He'd been impressed, and horrified, at his own Servant's ability to put away food. It paled before the golden haired Servants. She was a typhoon, a hurricane, the wrath of an angry god aimed at foodstuffs. The food was seemingly inhaled rather than eaten, vanishing into her mouth at an astonishing rate. Her plate was almost empty, barely three minutes into the meal, and she showed no signs of slowing down.

Assassin seemed to be trying to compete with her nonetheless.

The small Servant had sped up her own pace, fork little more than a blur of steel as it moved between plate and mouth. The two Servants made a strange picture; two girls, both slight of form, devouring what appeared to be their own weight in curry. Eventually however, they reached an impassable barrier. They ran out of food.

Assassin turned, her gaze, focused on his plate, telling him exactly what she wanted. He sighed.

"Would you like mine?" The question had barely left his lips before Assassin nodded, fork shooting forward, snatching pieces of the curry like a striking snake. Eventually, she seemed to deem this inefficient, and simply pulled the plate in front of her. He sighed again.

"Shirou." Assassin said, proffering a hunk of meat on her fork. "Do you want some?"

It was quite a cute sight. Though he couldn't help but think that it would have been cuter if she hadn't been offering him his own food after claiming it for herself.

"Thanks." He replied, leaning towards the fork with his mouth open. Assassin put it in his mouth then watched him chew it, a satisfied look on her face. "Yep. It's good."

She nodded, then focused her attention back on the food, obviously feeling that she'd fulfilled some kind of obligation.

Eventually, the meal came to an end and Ilya stood, stretching. "It's probably time for us to go now, Saber. Sella and Leysritt are probably panicking."

Saber nodded, standing up and moving beside her Master. Ilya glanced down at Shirou, who was still seated. "It was nice meeting you, Shirou." She winked. "Try to stay alive till the end, 'k? I quite like you, so it'd be a shame for someone to just kill you."

"Before you, you mean?" Shirou asked, amused despite himself.

"Oh, I was just teasing you with that. You're far too interesting to just kill off." Ilya shook her head. "Besides, I'm a Hero. I only take out the villains, right?"

"If you were just teasing, couldn't you had said that earlier?" Shirou asked, rubbing his brow in exhaustion. "You know, when Assassin was poised to jump at you?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Ilya exclaimed, as if surprised he'd even asked the question. "Misunderstandings, both deliberate and accidental, are the spice of life! Whether it's falling onto a girl's chest as your love interest walks through the door, or making someone think you're going to kill them, it's all fun! "

Ilya laughed loudly as Shirou groaned, placing a couple of notes down and trotting to door. As she was about to leave, a question that had been gnawing on Shirou since the revelation of Ilya's fathers identity finally left his lips.

"Ilya." He called out. She turned, facing him with a curious expression. "I never directly asked this, but I really do want to know: Why _did_ Emiya Kiritsugu destroy the grail?"

Ilya raised a finger to her lip, taking on a thoughtful pose. "Hmmm. Well, since you introduced me to a great restaurant, I'll set you on the right track." She smiled cheerfully. "The Holy Grail isn't exactly what you think it is."

Shirou frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Ask your father." Ilya said. "He knows."

He opened his mouth to question her further, but she spun out of the door, giving him a wave as she left, Saber following close behind.

He stared at her fading back, mind whirling. The Holy Grail wasn't what he thought it was? Then what exactly was it supposed to be? All he knew about it had come from Kotomine, Gilgamesh and Rin, and all their stories had agreed: The Grail was an omnipotent artefact, a magical device that could fulfil any wish. That was why people fought for it. If it was something other than that, then didn't that render the whole War pointless?

Well, not pointless for him. In fact, if the Grail _was_ different from what he'd been led to believe, then that would be even more interesting. Yet another mystery to discover. He could already feel himself getting excited, that familiar urge to investigate welling up.

"Shirou." Assassin said quietly, drawing his attention from his thoughts. "Do you want me to kill the Master?"

He paused, giving the Servant a surprised look. "You can do that? Even with Saber there?"

Assassin nodded.

Shirou frowned. The idea was quite tempting. Ilya was almost certainly the strongest competitor in the War, her Servant near invincible. In straight combat, it was likely that not even Assassin and Lancer working together could defeat Saber. More than that, Saber genuinely frightened him, her very presence setting him on edge. He couldn't even look at her without that feeling of dread running through his body. Getting rid of her would be a relief.

Eventually though, he shook his head. "No. Leave her be for now."

Assassin's head cocked curiously, obviously surprised. "…Why?"

"Because Saber can cut down our competition," He responded. "She's probably the strongest Servant in this War, and the longer we leave her be, the more Servants she kills. Which means the less we have to go through."

Assassin seemed to think over this for a second, then nodded. "...That's fine then."

Shirou rubbed his head, thoughts jumbling together. Ilya's identity, doubt thrown on the Holy Grail, Assassin's secrets, his strange refusal to die, even with a sword buried in his chest… The only thing that was certain was that way too much had happened tonight.

"Let's… let's just head home." He said tiredly, standing up.

* * *

><p>"Is it really fine to leave him be?" Saber asked, watching the girl in front of her carefully. Ilya had always been whimsical, making decisions based on little more than her current mood, but this seemed careless even for her.<p>

"Yep, yep." Ilya responded happily. "It's fine. He's not that bad a guy."

"Even so," Saber continued, refusing to let the argument drop. "He is a Master. If you wanted to spare him, we should have still killed his Servant. Assassin is always trouble."

"Don't worry so much, Saber." Ilya said, beginning to skip a little. "There's no way that Assassin can get past you, right?"

Saber shook her head. "I can't guarantee that. She does not appear to be Hassan-I Sabbah. She may possess differing abilities from the Assassin's normally summoned."

Ilya paused at that for a second, but quickly gave a shrug. "Well, it'll be fine. I trust you Saber."

Saber sighed. It wasn't that Ilya's trust was misplaced. She'd give up her own life to protect the girl without a moment's hesitation if necessary. It was just that she wouldn't always be given that option. A knife driven into Ilya's back while she was sleeping would be as much a threat as a sword aimed at her in the day, if not more so. No matter how carefully she protected her, there'd be moments where her guard wasn't quite as sharp as it could be, where she wasn't quite as focused as she should be. That would be when Assassin would strike.

"Hey, Saber." Ilya had stopped, and spun round. "Did Shirou seem… weird to you?" Saber blinked.

"He was certainly unusual. But he has had a unique life, after…" She hesitated, a twinge of guilt coming to life. "After the fire, and being adopted by that priest."

"Not like that," Ilya replied, waving the answer away. "I mean, did he _feel_ weird to you? Like, like…."

The girl paused, a confused expression on her face. "…I can't explain it."

Saber shook her head. "He didn't feel any different to any other magus." She replied. "But perhaps you are sensing something I am not. I would not dismiss your instincts out of hand, Ilya."

"Maybe," Ilya said, still seeming slightly uncertain. "I guess I'll keep an eye on him."

* * *

><p>The moon hung low above the temple, yet seemed to cast little light upon its dark form. Within it, monks went around their business lifelessly, as if no more than puppets. Which in truth, is what they'd been reduced to.<p>

The hooded woman sat in the central hall, her eyes closed as she focused, completing her link to the nexus of leylines that this temple sat upon. Across from her, her Master watched silently, waiting for her to finish. She shivered slightly, suppressing her disgust. His attentions were still as foul as ever, even when they were not lecherous in intent.

After a moment, she opened her eyes.

"It is done, Master."

He made no sign of congratulations, or even satisfaction. Instead, he merely stood, gesturing for her to follow. Despite her misgivings, she followed him. How could she not? The two remaining seals upon his hand guaranteed she would. Her only choice was whether to walk, or be forced to crawl. Or worse.

Caster had never considered herself a good person. She had betrayed, and been betrayed in turn. She had willingly let both bitterness and love drive her to monstrosity. She was kin slayer and murderer. But pointless cruelty, to people who had never wronged her, people she had never even met, had never been her way.

Her Master was different.

Eventually, they stopped on the veranda of the temple, staring across at the gate and the city below.

"The sky is beautiful, is it not?"

His voice was as quiet as ever, little more than a whisper. Not that it could be any louder. A ragged gash had been torn in his throat, as if by a jagged stone. The red wound stood out even under the pale moonlight.

"It is, Master." She replied, keeping her voice low and demure. Inside, she seethed. If he let his guard down for even a second, she could finish him. But he wouldn't. He never did. Not even when he… when he enjoyed her company. There was always a part of him that seemed perpetually wary, ever watching the shadows.

"And yet…" He wheezed out a sigh. "I feel so very bored."

She stiffened. There were few things that alleviated his boredom. Murder and sex were among them. She found herself hoping it was the former that he desired tonight.

"Conduct a song for me, Caster." He said, looking down at the city. "I want to hear music."

"Master?" She asked cautiously, uncertain as to exactly he wanted her to do. He gave her a smile, calm and composed.

"Make them sing for me, Caster." His hand swept out, gesturing towards the lights of the city below.

She understood.

The feeding began.

-End-

* * *

><p>-?'s Information Corner<p>

Servant Stats.

Servant Class: Saber

Identity: Arturia Pendragon

Master: Ilyasviel von Einzbern

Alignment: Lawful Good (If by Lawful, you mean 'borderline retarded'. Durr hurr, resetting the timeline is a great thing to do! I'm sure that'll have no negative side effects on 1000 YEARS OF HUMAN HISTORY. Or maybe I'm just bitter)

Strength: A (With her twig arms, I've got **no **idea how she pulls this shit off)

Agility: A (…Not much to say here)

Mana: A+ (She's got little miss psychopath fuelling her. What did you expect?)

Luck: A (She avoided Gilgamesh for 10 years. I'd say that's pretty fucking lucky)

Endurance: A (Again, her body's like a twig. **HOW**)

**Class Skills**:

Riding: B (Meh. King of Knights and all. It fits)

Magic Resistance: A (Rin always hated this)

**Personal Skills**:

Instinct: A (I swear, fighting with her is like trying to play chess with a bloody psychic)

Prana Burst: A (Ever seen someone attach a grenade to a sword? This is the closest equivalent. It's as retarded overpowered as it sounds)

Charisma: B (What can I say? She has her fans. Dat DFC)

**Noble Phantasm(/s)**:

Invisible Air: Rank C (You know, I don't even know why she has this)

Excalibur: Rank A++ (That sword that nobody remembers, because Ea's better)

Avalon: Rank EX (No Sell everything. Superman'd be proud)

-?'s overall analysis:….. You know, this just reminded me how _bullshit_ overpowered Saber is.


	8. Rest

**A/N: New chapter! Many thanks to my beta, Hymn of Ragnarock, without whom this story would be a good deal less legible.**

* * *

><p>His boots clicked of the stone floor loudly as Kotomine Kirei descended into the dimly lit depths of the crypt. Originally belonging to a western line that had long since left the lands of Fuyuki, the burial ground had been repurposed to suit his needs.<p>

The air shivered as he went lower, an almost palpable sense of pain and suffering growing stronger and stronger. He ignored it. No. Perhaps it was more correct to say that he reveled in it.

Eventually, he reached the central chamber. Originally housing the bodies of the previous owners of the stone crypt, it now held new, more useful occupants. They were laid in a semi-circle around the room, their bodies decayed beyond all recognition. Wet flesh, rotten and excreting a viscous slime heaved ever so slightly, almost invisibly, in the pale blue light that filled the room. It was a sign of life in a body that should not be alive.

The survivors of the fire of Fuyuki. Orphans who had had no home. No family. No purpose. Of course, he had given them all of those. Such was his duty as a man of the cloth.

He moved among the children, a quick glance ensuring that each of them still lived. _Well, not _lived_ per say_, he thought, amused at the slip. _Existed would be a more correct term._

All of them remained functional however, which was a relief. With the Grail War upon them, a continual source of prana for Gilgamesh was essential. While the Heroic Spirit had regained much of his power over the last ten years, he would likely use a great deal of it in the coming days.

One of the children twitched, an eye moving slightly to look at him, nerves that should have died a long time ago apparently still functioning against all odds. He gave it a curious look. The orb was milky white, all traces of iris and pupil gone, along with any emotion. There was nothing in that stare. Not rage, nor hate, nor even pain. It was entirely empty and thus entirely uninteresting.

"Really," He murmured to himself in dissatisfaction. "Can you not be more like your brother?"

It was due to Shirou that he had been forced to store the children in this crypt, as opposed to the catacombs beneath the church. While it was inconvenient, he didn't want his adoptive son to know of his 'siblings' existence.

Not yet, anyway.

He turned and left the hell that he had created behind him. Business called.

* * *

><p>Shirou stumbled into the living room of the church and slumped onto the couch heavily. Exhaustion had taken it's toll, sapping his body of any real strength. His magic circuits were virtually empty and his body still ached whenever he moved, pain lancing through his nerves.<p>

Gilgamesh had turned as he entered, raising an eyebrow at his dishevelled appearance. His brother seemed to have returned to Final Fantasy shortly after he'd left, judging by the fact that Cloud had found his way back to the party.

"What happened to you?" Gilgamesh asked. Shirou almost laughed at that. What hadn't happened to him? He'd fought his first battle in the Grail War, temporarily gained a new accessory in the form of a sword in his chest, and he'd met a girl who, while charming, was vaguely sociopathic. Overall, he couldn't help but think he'd had better days.

"Long night." He responded flatly, unwilling to give a full rundown of the events of the night. He knew that he really should get to sleep but the idea of dragging himself to his bedroom was unpleasant to contemplate. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure he could pull himself up from the couch.

The Servant considered him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then shrugged, attention returning to the TV.

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were those produced by the game. Shirou was content to do nothing more than recline on the sofa. Assassin had reverted to spiritual form to lessen her drain on his prana, but stood nearby, ever watchful. Her remaining wounds had healed over the course of the walk back, but she'd used up a not-inconsiderable amount of prana herself manifesting that boundary field. Prana that, for the most part, he'd be supplying.

His thoughts drifted through the last few hours. While there were a great many mysteries to mull over, one stood out above all the others in the way his mind kept coming back to it: Ilya's words.

She'd said the Holy Grail wasn't what he thought it was, and that his father was aware of that. More than that though, she's said that it was _because_ the Grail wasn't what it was supposed to be that Emiya Kiritsugu had destroyed it, levelling Fuyuki in the process. If she wasn't lying, which was a possibility, then his own father had been withholding some rather important facts from him.

"Aniki," He started, after a moment's further thought. At the very least, asking Kotomine Kirei about it wouldn't cause any harm. "Where's my father?"

Gilgamesh shrugged, not turning away from the screen. "Out. Somewhere. Is it important?" The Servant shook his head. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't care."

Shirou frowned. He'd been hoping that his father would have returned by now. Despite his exhaustion, the questions burning in his mind were making it hard to even think of getting any rest. A notion occurred to him at that. Wouldn't asking Gilgamesh be nearly as good? After all, it had been the Grail that had granted the Heroic Spirit a true physical body. His brother was quite possibly the only person in the world who'd come into actual contact with the great device.

"Aniki," He said again, leaning forward from the sofa. His muscles complained at the movement but he ignored the jolts of pain. "What is the Grail?"

Gilgamesh paused at that. Quite literally, considering that he actually paused the game. "Didn't Kotomine tell you this a half-dozen times? You've pestered me over it often enough as well."

"Well, yes." Shirou admitted, unsure of what to say next. Saying that he'd was doubting his father over the word of someone who was essentially a complete stranger was a little… weird. Eventually, he continued. "It's just that a Master I met tonight seemed to think that there was something more to it."

"So you did get into a fight then?" Gilgamesh asked, turning round. "I thought as much."

Shirou shook his head. "It was a different Master that I fought. We were interrupted by a second, a girl called Ilya."

"Is that so?" Gilgamesh asked, sounding amused. "And then she decided to sit down and have a chat?"

"Something like that." Shirou replied with a shrug. "She told me that the Holy Grail isn't what I think it is, and that I should ask my father about it."

For a moment, the Heroic Spirit was silent. Then he spoke up. "I'll tell you this, pointless as it is; The Holy Grail does exactly what it's said to do. It grants a wish, no matter how absurd or impossible. I don't know what this 'Ilya' was planning to do by telling you this, but there's no point thinking about it."

Shirou hesitated. His brother was hiding something. It was painfully obvious. He wasn't directly lying, but information was definitely being omitted. That was worrying on several levels. If there was something that Gilgamesh wasn't telling him, then that all but confirmed that Ilya had been telling the truth about his father concealing information from him. And information about the Holy Grail at that. Given that he was currently engaged in a War for that very artifact, he couldn't help but be intensely curious as to what kind of knowledge merited this degree of secrecy.

Gilgamesh turned back to the TV screen, signaling that the conversation was over. Shirou watched his back for a few seconds, the temptation to confront him clashing with both sheer exhaustion and the fact that it would be ultimately pointless. If the Heroic Spirit didn't want to tell him something, then there wasn't a force on earth that would make him. Not even gratuitous numbers of spoilers.

He sighed, pulling himself from the sofa. Frankly, he was too tired to deal with any of this. Tomorrow, once his father got back from whatever business was keeping him, they'd talk. He moved towards the door, his steps a tad unsteady, when Gilgamesh called out.

"Brat." Shirou swivelled round and the Servant continued. "Out of interest, what Servants did the Master's you meet have?"

"The first, Bazett, had Lancer. Ilya has Saber." Shirou replied. The golden king went still at that, a strange expression crossing his face.

"Really now?" Gilgamesh murmured quietly. Shirou frowned. Gilgamesh's reaction was odd by any standard, but it was especially strange for his bombastic brother. He waited for a moment longer, but the Heroic Spirit said nothing more, apparently deep in thought. Yet another strange event to take into account.

He turned to leave once more, and from behind him came the vaguely mournful sound of the Final Fantasy Seven world theme. He snorted in amusement. It appeared that not even whatever had put that strange expression on his brother's face could distract him from his gaming time for long. Then again very little could.

Making his way along the corridor, he opened the door to his room and stumbled in. The sight of his bed, so warm and comfortable, drained every ounce of his remaining energy and he fell heavily onto it. Lying there, face pressed into it's downy softness, he groaned as the tension left his body. _This might be bad_, he thought tiredly. _I don't think I can move_.

"Shirou." He turned his head with great effort, the side of his face still pressed heavily against the covers. Assassin had taken physical form again, and stood there, watching him. She had slipped back into his T-shirt, a few sizes too big for her. He really had to see about getting her something else to wear.

"Yes, Assassin?" He asked blearily, his exhaustion seeping into his voice.

"…Could you… move over a little?"

It took a few seconds for what she'd said to sink in. "Oh." He hesitated. "You're not going to be in your spiritual form then?"

"I could do so, if you'd prefer." She replied. While she seemed as stoic as ever, he couldn't help but feel that she seemed slightly hurt. He shook his head.

"No, it's fine. Just give me a second." He still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of an invisible spectral entity watching over him while he slept anyway. Putting up with a little additional drain wouldn't be too bad, not if he didn't have to deal with his Origin poking his subconscious over the presence of a non-corporeal being. Focusing, he summoned the little remaining energy in his body and pulled himself up slowly. He moved off the bed, footsteps heavy as they hit the ground. Reaching the cupboard, he pulled out the futon he'd put away that very morning. Something he was regretting now, given that he'd have to set it up again.

"Shirou." Assassin said, voice quiet. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just setting up the futon." He said, waving the blanket at her.

"…Why?"

He sighed. "Because I need somewhere to sleep."

"…Why not here?"

He turned. Assassin had crawled into the bed and pulled the covers up to her face. Her eyes peered over the cover at him, and she patted the spot next to her with a slim hand. _Oh, now that's just not fair. _He thought, willpower crumbling. _How am I supposed to say no to that?_

The idea of sleeping in a bed was tempting enough anyway. He'd never quite gotten used to sleeping on a futon, probably because he'd never had much need to sleep in one. And it wasn't as if they were going to do anything either…

A memory rose through his mind at that, one of Assassin giving him a brilliant smile, her entire face lit up by a simple upturning of the lips. He fought down a wave of embarrassment.

"You don't want to?" She asked, pale blue eyes fixed on him. He folded. That firm, yet ever so slightly plaintive gaze broke what little remained of his will and resistance instantly.

"Why not?" He replied, slipping into the empty space. The bed hadn't really been intended for two people, but it was still large enough for both of them to be relatively comfortable. He was relieved to see that Assassin seemed to have some notion of personal space, and had moved to the opposite end. Exhausted to the point of near death or not, getting to sleep with her all but attached to him would have been nigh impossible.

* * *

><p>Assassin lay there, waiting patiently for her Master's breath to take on the slow, even tones of sleep. She was happy, almost excessively so. It was an odd feeling and one that she'd rarely had before. And the cause of it was no more than a foot away.<p>

He'd said that he wouldn't abandon her. A smile stamped itself on her face at the memory and she blushed lightly. When he said it, she found that she honestly believed it.

Still, there were still some concerns that had to be dealt with. Shirou had almost died today, both at the hands of the enemy Master and those of Lancer. She gave a low snarl at the thought. She'd kill that bitch with her own hands. No-one hurt her Master like that. No-one. Maria wouldn't even give her the chance to scream before it reduced her to bloody chunks. The fact that it would take Lancer out of the War was just a bonus. She hadn't forgotten that blow he'd dealt to Shirou. The damage it had dealt to his ribs had been heavy, no matter how he'd tried to hide it. Perhaps she should kill his Master in front of him? Judging by the way he'd tried to save her, he seemed to care for her.

And then there was Ilya and Saber. While she didn't have any particular grudge against them, the fact remained that they were enemies in the War. While Saber might be a near invincible foe, the pale haired Master most certainly _wasn't_. Still, Shirou's idea of leaving them be for now was a good one. As long as they didn't kill Bazett before she did.

Or Rin.

Her face darkened at the thought of the girl. Before they'd fought Bazett and Lancer, she'd been considering killing the other magus tonight. That wasn't an option anymore . Shirou was too vulnerable to be left alone right now, what with his wounds and effectively empty prana reserves. They'd need to be defensive until they were back at full strength. Regretful, but there were good points to it too. For one thing, it meant she could simply relax for the night.

Shirou seem to have finally fallen into a deep sleep, so she twisted round, wrapping her arms around him. He stirred for a second but didn't wake. She moved in towards him until her face was barely a few centimetres from his.

Yes, leaving Rin be for now certainly had its advantages.

* * *

><p>The heavy footsteps of the priest alerted Gilgamesh to his presence long before he saw him. He gave a sneer at the sound. It was nothing more than an affectation. Kotomine Kirei was capable of moving like a damn cat when he wanted to. He just liked the gravity the heavy footfalls added to his presence.<p>

"Has Shirou returned?" The priest asked as he opened the door.

"He's sleeping, along with the rat." Gilgamesh replied, pausing the game once more. As much as it irked to be forced to leave the world of Final Fantasy 7 behind once again, there was some business that needed to be discussed. "He was involved in a fight as well. Some woman. Bezet or some such foolishness."

Kotomine smirked. "Bazett. It appears that she couldn't turn down the chance to save her idol after all. How very predictable."

"She gave the brat quite a beating too." Gilgamesh continued. "He was trying to hide it, but it looks like he's nursing a few broken ribs at the least."

"If that's all he received from a confrontation with Bazett, then he's rather lucky." Kotomine said, his smirk growing ever wider. "While her naiveté is a thing of wonder, her skills are quite formidable."

"Hmph." Gilgamesh snorted. "Formidable or not, the brat has spent the last decade in the presence of the King. Some woman from your Association is nothing more than a pest."

"Oh?" Kotomine responded, an eyebrow raising. "Is that some brotherly pride leaking through, Gilgamesh?"

"Hardly." Gilgamesh replied sharply. "I'd merely be disappointed if he died fighting against a mere commoner."

Kotomine's smirk now all but covered his face. "Of course."

Gilgamesh gave him a glare, but Kotomine remained as unaffected as ever. The man's utter lack of fear or concern was simultaneously admirable and annoying. If he hadn't been willing to put up with Kotomine's more aggravating traits though, he would have killed the man long ago.

And the priest wasn't completely incorrect in this case. While he didn't have anything as soft or weak as _concern _for Shirou's wellbeing, he had to admit he'd grown used to seeing the brat around. More than that, he'd had a hand in the development of Shirou's magecraft himself. If the brat was slain by some mongrel, it would reflect badly on the name of the King of Heroes, something that would not be allowed.

"More importantly, it appears that some fool who can't keep their mouth shut has been telling him things he shouldn't know. The Einzbern girl." He said, irritation staining his voice. "He was asking me about the Grail. He seems to believe that there is something more to it than what he has been led to believe."

Kotomine's eyes narrowed slightly at that. "So he has met with the scion of the Einzbern. That was fast." He paused, considering. "I am surprised that she felt the need to so much as hint at the Grail's true nature."

"And they've summoned Saber." Gilgamesh continued, his voice growing excited. In truth, his meeting with the King of Knights had been one of the greatest reasons for his ten year wait. And given the fact that this was the Einzbern family, there was only one 'Saber' they were likely to summon. He gave a vicious grin at the memory of that silver knight, so very pure and idealistic. "It appears that they know only one trick."

"But that it convenient for you, is it not?" Kotomine inquired. "Had they called another, you would likely have never seen her again."

"True enough." Gilgamesh grudgingly admitted. "Even the most uninspired and stubborn can serve a purpose occasionally."

"Do you intend to announce your presence to her now?"

Gilgamesh considered the question. Tempting as it was, it would serve little purpose. Until the Holy Grail was nearly ready and she could be given a physical body, the only thing revealing himself to Saber would do was aggravate her. Not that seeing her face scrunched up in anger wasn't amusing, but the action as a whole was horribly inefficient.

"No, not yet." He replied. "I'll leave her to do as she wishes for a while longer. I've endured ten years. Another week is nothing."

If Kotomine had any opinion on his decision, it didn't show on his face. The priest merely nodded. "Very well. I myself will be leaving for a few days. It would be best if Shirou and I did not meet for a time."

"Oh?" Gilgamesh sneered slightly. "Determined to avoid your talk with the brat?"

"Were Shirou to ask me, I would answer. Thus, it would be best if he never had the chance to ask. " Kotomine responded, moving towards the door. "But if he knew that the Grail was tainted, then there is no telling what actions he might take. At the very least, he would inform Rin, and I know very well what her reaction would be."

Gilgamesh snorted at that. The idea that the actions of a single, lowborn woman, and one barely out of childhood at that, could prove of any consequence was ludicrous. The no doubt more pressing concern for the priest was that Shirou might simply refuse to wish upon the Grail upon discovering the truth. The brat was inquisitiveness incarnate, but no fool. He would understand the implications of wishing upon a curse so very great and the destruction it would cause.

"Do as you want." He said, just as the priest moved to leave the door he'd so recently entered. "My only concern right now is Saber."

Kotomine said nothing in response and left the room silently, footsteps silent compared to the heavy tread he'd entered with. Gilgamesh snorted once again and turned back to his long neglected game.

It seemed he had a week or so to finish Final Fantasy 7. A trivial task for the King.

* * *

><p>Lancer gave a dissatisfied click of the tongue as he examined the bed one more time. He'd carved runes of healing and purification into the wood of the bed and while they were certainly having an effect, it wasn't quick enough for his liking. Bazett was still sweating frantically, tossing and turning in her fever-sleep. Her hands gripped at her wounds, and if he hadn't bandaged them tightly, she'd probably have torn them open again.<p>

He was also annoyed at himself. His Master's condition was at least partially his fault. If he'd used Gae Bolg near the beginning at the fight, it would have ended then and there. He could have returned, helped Bazett finish off the kid and then gone and had a drink. But he'd let overconfidence, the assumption that he could easily best the Servant Assassin, lead him into a bad situation.

And that was the most aggravating part. He couldn't remember how Assassin _had _matched him_. _Whenever he tried, his mind simply refused to focus on the matter and his thoughts slipped away form his grasp. He couldn't even remember what she bloody looked like. Had he been affected by a magecraft without noticing? Or did Assassin possess a Noble Phantasm capable of manipulating memories? He shook his head in frustration. Thinking about it was pointless.

In the end he'd been forced into a situation where the best possible result was death for all involved. Using his lance might have killed the Master instantly, but Assassin would likely have taken the chance to slay either himself or Bazett. And if either of them died, the other was as good as dead too. Hell, even the increased prana drain Bazett would suffer from him using Gae Bolg's true power might have been enough to finish her off in her weakened state.

In the end, only luck had saved him. That other Servant's attack had proven to be a more than suitable distraction to escape.

No, he decided. If they met again, he had no intentions of underestimating the two. Decision made, he sat cross-legged on the ground and took up a silent vigil. Once Bazett woke up (And she would. He'd make sure of that), they had plans to make.

A rematch being fairly high on the list.

* * *

><p>Shirou blinked as he awoke, the light of day piercing his eyes almost painfully. To both his relief and disappointment, there'd been no further dreams last night. While he would have loved another clue to Assassin's identity, an uninterrupted sleep had its own charms… His thoughts back-pedalled. <em>Wait a second, daylight? <em>

Sure enough, a bright stream of light was breaking through a gap in the curtains, telling him that it far past the normal time that he got up at. He groaned. At this point, it wasn't a question of whether he'd be late to school or not but whether there was any point going. He gave a sigh and moved to sit up, only to find a weight holding him down.

The memories of last night came rushing back. He sighed again.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the covers back. As expected, Assassin's arm was placed firmly atop his torso, her face a few centimetres from his shoulder. She appeared to still be sleeping, her face quiet and composed. Then again, she was very nearly always quiet and composed, so that didn't mean much.

Almost as if she sensed his awakening, her eyes opened, those crystalline blue eyes peering upwards into his. His heart sped up a little at her straightforward gaze.

"Morning." He said, forcing his voice to be calm. While it was still a little shocking to have a semi-clothed girl sleeping right next to him, he didn't feel nearly as surprised as he had last time. Probably because it wasn't completely out of the blue this time. But hey, an improvement was still an improvement, right?

"Good morning." Assassin replied, nodding slightly. "Do you feel better?"

Shirou stopped, annoyed at himself. He'd been put so off balance from waking up late and finding Assassin once again attached to him that he'd forgotten to check on his own condition. He focused. His prana reserves were still low, but he could probably manage to put his ribs back together and have a little left over. Something that was definitely necessary, as while Assassin's arm had very carefully avoided touching his broken bones, they still ached.

"A little. I'll patch myself up in a second." He responded, pulling himself up. To his relief, Assassin released him with no complaints.

A few minutes later, his ribs blessedly back in their proper place, he leisurely made his way through to the kitchen. At this point, there was no real purpose in going to school. By the time he got there the day would be more than halfway gone. More than that though, he had a few things he wanted to investigate now that his head was less dazed with exhaustion and it would be a little difficult to do so at school.

He poured some milk into a bowl of cereal, then took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. At the forefont of this thoughts were three issues. First, the fact that his father and Gilgamesh was hiding information on the Grail from him. It was quite possible that they had good reasons for doing it, but he still wanted to know. On this matter, they didn't have a right to hide things from him.

Secondly, there was the fact that he'd healed from more than a foot of steel embedding itself into his chest. While it hadn't struck his heart, or any instantly fatal areas, it had still been a mortal blow, one that he wasn't sure he could have healed before it killed him, even if he hadn't blacked out. And yet here he was, a little battered but mostly intact. That meant that either someone had saved him, or there was something he wasn't aware of affecting his body. And it was unlikely that anyone could have healed him to that extent without Bazett noticing, given that he'd been only a few feet from her.

The third issue was actually something that he should have known from some time ago. In fact, it had only sprung to mind last night, during supper with Ilya.

He glanced up at the Servant opposite him. She'd made her own bowl of cereal and was munching away with every sign of contentment. Ah. Except it was her second bowl. He stared. How had she even done that? He'd started eating first and he was barely halfway through his!

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. There was a more important matter than his Servant's eating habits, potentially financially ruinous as they were. It was a fairly simple, yet staggeringly important question.

"Assassin." He called out. The white haired Servant stopped, spoon in mouth, gaze focused on him. "What do you want from the Grail?"

There was a pause and then Assassin slowly chewed the mouthful, as if buying time to think. Eventually, she swallowed the cereal and looked at him carefully.

"A family."

Shirou's mind went blank. How exactly was he supposed to respond to that? Where could he even begin? The memory of his dream, the night after he'd summoned her, forced its way to the surface of it's thoughts. An image of a child, comforted by her mother and father, tears becoming laughter, stood out vividly.

"I see." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Even that seemed like too much. But a thought, stubborn and harsh, stayed in his mind. A wish like that…

How would the Grail even grant it?

Would it create a family from nothing, here and now? Change the past so that Assassin was never abandoned by her parents in that city? Even then, it didn't mean that she'd be happy. And what did a family even mean? Gilgamesh and Kotomine were his family, though there was no blood relation between any of them.

"Assassin," He said slowly. Talking about this felt wrong. Like poking a sore spot, just because you couldn't stop yourself. "What is a family to you?"

Assassin stopped, a bemused expression crossing her face. Silence reigned across the room for a full minute as the Servant fell deeper and deeper into thought. The minute became two, and then three. Shirou didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if he should say anything.

Eventually, almost painfully slowly, Assassin looked up at him. Her expression was confused, as if she'd found something she couldn't quite comprehend. It was painful to watch, and he couldn't help but regret that he'd brought it up. Her mouth opened, her words hesitant.

"I don't know."

* * *

><p>Rin threw the door to roof open, glaring around the open area. He wasn't here either. She gritted her teeth. Why did he have to take a day off today, of all days? School was the only place that they could easily meet up now. The streets weren't safe to casually traverse anymore.<p>

"My, that's a disappointed look on your face." Rider said cheerfully from behind her. "Are you that upset that Shirou isn't here for the date?"

"Shut up." Rin grated out. The Heroic Spirit had apparently taken the fact that they were in school, where she couldn't be open with her magic, as a carte blanche to tease her incessantly. Even so, her hand rose slightly, the bandages wrapped around her command seals visible.

Rider clicked her tongue. "Now, now, Master. Calm down. What if someone were to come through the door, just as you used a command seal on me? Wouldn't that be terrible?"

Her teeth now on the verge of beginning to crack, Rin lowered her hand. _When we… get back… kill her… painfully… win Grail War… by myself… _The thought was surprisingly calming, and she unclenched her teeth.

"Alright, fine. I'm annoyed that Shirou's not here," She said, the admission almost choking her. "But only because I was planning to talk to him about our plans for the Grail War."

"You're very confident that he'd agree to join you." Rider noted. "I guess I've been underestimating how close you two are."

Rin kept her mouth shut. It was a foreign experience for her, but it seemed that everything she said around the red-haired Servant just seemed to dig herself deeper. Besides, truth be told, she was getting a little worried.

This was the Holy Grail War after all, and when a Master suddenly disappeared, there weren't many options as to what had happened to them. They'd either gone to ground, or met an opponent they couldn't stand against. She bit her lip. While the most likely option was the former, a small, persistent voice in her head just wouldn't shut up. _Shirou's the type who doesn't know caution. He'd challenge another master just for the experience. He'd vanish without a trace…_

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It wasn't worth considering. Shirou would be fine. Still, she needed to talk to him. Now that she had a Servant, they had to resolve what they'd be doing for the War, and whether they'd be working together or… not.

"Come on, Rider." She said, heading back down the stairs. "This is pointless. We'll just go to the church later."

"Of course, Master." Rider replied, her invisible form falling into line behind Rin. "You can't let the man skip out on a date. It's terrible form. Only the lady is allowed to do that."

Rin turned, a vitriolic comment poised on the tip of her tongue, when the air froze.

She stumbled, a bizarre feeling running through her body, as if a plug had been pulled and something was draining from her. No, she realized. That was exactly what was happening. Her prana was being forcibly removed from her body.

Instantly, she set her circuits to work. Her od, the internal source of power all possessed, began to circulate around her body, washing away the foreign prana leeching away at her. It took a moment, but eventually, the alien influence was removed. She took a deep breath.

That had been surprisingly difficult. The attack hadn't been a true 'spell', so much as it had been a manipulation of her circuits through pure prana, something that she normally wouldn't have even needed to actively resist. Her circuits should have rejected it from the start. But it had been incredibly well done. So well done, in fact, that she doubted any magus she knew of would have been capable of it.

"Are you alright, Master?" Rider asked, taking on a physical form next to her. Rin nodded.

"I'm fine." She replied. "You?"

"Not even a scratch, Master." Rider replied, giving a stretch. "Magecraft like that isn't even capable of affecting Servants."

"Lucky you." Rin groused. "Could you tell where it came from then? I was a little distracted."

Rider shrugged. "I'm not a magus. Tracking that would have been impossible." She paused, considering. "I don't think that it was aimed specifically at us though. It seemed a more general attack than anything else."

"What do you mean-" Rin stopped, her question answered by the sight that greeted her as she left the stairwell. All along the corridor, students had collapsed, seemingly where they stood. Books, food and drink lay on the floor, having fallen from their owners' hands.

"That's what I meant." Rider said glibly.

Rin crouched down next to one of the students, a younger girl whom she vaguely recognised as being one of the girls that she'd been talking to just yesterday, when Shirou had come to talk. She gave a sigh of relief as she felt the girl's pulse, weak as it was. She pulled a gem out of her pocket, preparing to transfer some prana, then hesitated. Even if she drained every jewel in her possession, it might not be enough to awaken every single student in the school. Furthermore, the extent of the drain they'd suffered didn't seem to be immediately life-threatening. With some bed rest, they'd probably be fine. Calling a hospital would be a more efficient means of healing them.

Next to her, Rider gave the scene another look, then shook her head. "What a mess."

For probably the first time since she'd summoned the red-haired Servant, Rin found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with her.

* * *

><p>Shirou glared at the small vial of blood in his hand, analysing it once more. It was perfectly healthy, perfectly normal, and unchanged from the last time he'd checked it. That last point was the most aggravating part. He sighed, placing the vial down onto a rack, next to a large plant.<p>

He didn't know exactly what he'd been expecting. Foreign prana, traces of an unusual substance, new circuits… Anything that could explain the impossibly fast regeneration that he'd exhibited last night. And yet he'd found nothing, whether he analysed his blood through magic, or more mundane measures, such as a microscope. He'd even cut out a few thin strips of flesh from the newly healed wound, to similar effect. That was to say, none at all.

That meant one of either two things. Either someone had healed him from a distance through unknown means, a feat he would have considered impossible, or he simply wasn't capable of recognising whatever what was inside him. He frowned. Neither option was particularly attractive.

There was third option, but it was even worse than the other two. That he was completely wrong with the previous two trains of thought, and the source was something else entirely. If that was the case, then he had no idea where to even begin looking for a new answer.

He shook his head. No, leaving it be seemed kinda… silly. What kind of idiot would simply accept that he had a mysterious healing ability, and then leave it to chance to determine if he ever found out it's source or not?

Even so, he was reaching the end of his current abilities. His Analysis magecraft wasn't quite perfect yet, but he should have been able to pick up _something_. He gave a frustrated growl. He couldn't even ask his father for help. Kotomine Kirei hadn't returned last night, and had left no message explaining his absence, or how to contact him if necessary. It was quite possible that he was doing something involved with the Holy Grail War, but his seeming disappearance was more than a trifle annoying.

He supposed he could talk to Rin about it. In terms of pure magecraft, she vastly surpassed him. It was quite possible that he was simply missing something obvious, or that the answer could be found in one of the numerous arcane texts in her house. _Yeah_, he thought. _That's probably the easiest way_.

He'd have to be careful about that though. Assassin had made her dislike of his childhood friend quite clear. Still, she probably wouldn't attack her right in front of him. Probably.

Truth be told, Assassin had been acting strangely since their talk in the kitchen. Increasingly, he was regretting asking her about her wish. It hadn't served any real, strictly necessary purpose, and it seemed to have unsettled the Servant a fair bit.

He gave a quiet sigh. He wanted to help her, but honestly, he couldn't help but feel that he'd just make things worse. His poking into places that he didn't have any real right to investigate had been the cause of the maudlin air Assassin was projecting after all. He doubted that doing it more would help.

He focused himself, turning his attention back to the vial of blood and the strips of skin on the worktop before him. Even if he couldn't help Assassin right now, simply moping about it wouldn't help anybody. Better to take another crack at the problem he _could_ possibly solve.

* * *

><p>Assassin stood behind her Master silently, mind in turmoil.<p>

"_What is a family to you?"_

It was such a simple question, and yet she found she couldn't answer it. What was a family?

She remembered seeing those children, laughing happily with their parents, showered with affection. She'd wanted that care. She'd hated the mother who denied her that. And yet her mother had been family, at least in the strictest sense. You didn't hate family, did you?

And there'd been families that hurt each other too. Fathers who'd hit their wives and children, mothers who'd sent their children off to work, even when they could barely walk. Children who'd ran from that, risking their lives on the street rather than stay another moment with their 'family'.

It occurred to her that, quite simply, she had no idea what her wish entailed.

Strangely, the thought wasn't that shocking. She wondered why. She'd based her life around the desire for vengeance, and the desire to have a family after all. Having one of the supports of her entire existence ripped away should have been traumatic, devastating. And yet it wasn't. Why?

It took only a moment for her to reach the answer.

All the positive traits she'd ever associated with a 'family', hadn't she already found someone who would give them to her unconditionally? Someone who would care for her, comfort her, hold her, _never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever abandon her. _Hadn't Shirou given her all that already? Even in the short time she'd known him?

She didn't know what a family was. But she knew that Shirou cared for her. That he made her happy. Wasn't that enough?

Of course it was. More than enough.

Her mind calmed as things fell into clarity. She simply had to protect Shirou from anyone who would try to separate them, whether by force or other means. It was simple. Easy.

And once they reached the Grail, she would make a wish. And she and Shirou would be together. Forever. He would wake up beside her, and feed her, and talk to her, and love her, and care for her. Forever.

She smiled at the thought.

-End-


	9. Alliance

**A/N: New Chapter! And I'm running out of things to say!**

* * *

><p>Sakura gave a resigned sigh as she watched the TV report on the gas leak at a local school playing across the screen. If ever there was a sign that the Grail War had started in earnest, this was it. The symptoms of rapid prana drain were obvious to even a mediocre magus. She supposed she should count herself fortunate that She and Shinji had been given a leave of absence from their education. While she could have driven off such an attack, it wouldn't have been a pleasant experience. And Shinji wouldn't have stood a chance.<p>

She was still worried though. Shirou would have likely been at the school and would have almost certainly have come under the same attack as everyone else. Despite that, finding anything out about his condition was almost impossible. The school was inundated with calls from worried family, and her own attempts were simply buried under the wave. She supposed that her grandfather could have found out, but she doubted that drawing his attention to Kotomine Shirou was a good idea. It would serve to do nothing more than put him at risk and create yet another chain around her neck.

No, she decided. Shirou was no doubt fine, and her worrying pointless. Even if he had been subjected to prana drain, he'd recover after some bed rest. Perhaps she'd bring him some flowers to cheer him up. He'd probably like that. She shook her head, clearing it. The more pressing concern right now was the 'hero of the hour', who'd called the emergency services only moments after the leak occurred.

Or in this case, the heroine.

She frowned slightly as a picture of Tohsaka Rin, her estranged sister, crossed the TV. Despite everything, despite her sister being the favoured child, despite her sister being the glamorous honour student, she found that she couldn't hate her. She didn't overly _like_ her either though. Rin had been as distant to her as she'd been to the Tohsaka heir. In truth, they were sisters in name only.

And now they were enemies.

While she doubted that Rin had instigated the attack on the school, there was no doubt that Rin was a Master. She was the scion of Tohsaka after all, which practically guaranteed her place. As they both possessed Servants, there could only be conflict between them.

The thought gave her a slight thrill, despite her misgivings. She held no grudge against her sister, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't enjoy showing her superiority as a magus.

_I'll prove it_, she thought suddenly. _I'll prove that what I've endured wasn't a waste_.

It might have been Zouken's goals that she was fighting for, but her skills, the talents she'd developed over the years through both training and torment, were hers and hers alone. Even if the spoils of the War would go to her grandfather, she could have this small, personal victory to herself.

Or she would, once Shinji was finished being her damn proxy. It had just been insulting when Zouken had decreed that Shinji would act as the Master for the first part of the war. She could see the sense in it. The most dangerous stage of the war was when the identities of the other Masters and Servants were hidden. By using a useless piece like her brother as bait, they could draw out their enemies with minimum risk to herself.

But it was a slap to the face on several levels. It was an insult to her powers as a magus for one, suggesting that Zouken had no confidence in her. For another, it denied her the chance to face off against Rin. And finally, whatever his worth in the grand scheme of things, Shinji was her brother. Seeing him used as nothing more than a glorified meat shield wasn't pleasant.

Especially since it reminded her, quite clearly, that she was just as expendable if need be.

Still, if Shinji was cautious then he could possibly survive contact with all the opposing Masters. Once he'd done that, she could take her rightful place in the Grail War and he could hide away in the mansion.

And then... She'd see about her sister.

* * *

><p>Rin stormed her way up the road. It had taken hours, but the police had finally let her go. Aggravatingly, they'd been slightly suspicious of her. It wasn't that surprising. After all, she'd been the only person left standing in the entire building and they'd wanted an explanation as to why.<p>

Somehow, she doubted they'd have believed the full story even if she'd been willing to tell it.

Luckily, they'd bought her story of being on the roof for some fresh air and after a quick medical check to ensure the gas hadn't affected her in any imperceptible ways, they'd sent her on her way. Even so, it had still consumed most of the day. A day that could have been better spent actually tracking the source of the disturbance.

She had a fairly good idea of the perpetrator's identity though. That attack on her circuits had definitely been magecraft, if one of a staggeringly high level. Barring a True Magician being a contestant in the War, it was almost certain that a Servant was behind it, likely Caster.

But a few guesses didn't help all that much. Fuyuki city was huge, and the enemy could potentially be hiding anywhere within its grounds. Searching alone would be an incredibly difficult task, and one that exposed her to the other Masters in the process. Therefore, the simplest solution would be to find someone to work with. Preferably someone trustworthy.

Luckily, she had a candidate.

"Ooh..." She stopped, turning as Rider's impressed voice reached her ears. The Servant was staring hungrily through the window of a jewelry shop, her eyes alight with blatant greed.

"This isn't the time." Rin said, crossing her arms in annoyance. Rider gave her a dismissive wave.

"Your date can wait a bit." Rin opened her mouth to retort, only for the Heroic Spirit to continue speaking over her. "Besides, how can I just ignore such a beautiful sight? It'd be a travesty."

"And what exactly are you planning to do?" Rin asked, giving the Servant a suspicious glare. "As much as I'd like to be able to, I can't afford those."

"I'm going to steal them." Rider replied casually.

Rin gave a sigh, grinding her face into the palm of her hand. The answer was as expected. "No, you're not."

"Why not?" Rider complained, twisting her head round to look at her Master. "Look at them, Master! They're just sitting there, doing nothing! Wouldn't they look much better on us?"

For a moment, Rin found herself tempted. The jewels were just sitting there. Even if they were sold, they'd only sit in a jewelry box for most of the time, only taken out to be worn on rare occasions. She could put them to a much better use than that...

She shook her head violently, clearing the temptation. She was the heir of Tohsaka! She wouldn't resort to letting her Servant rob jewelry shops, no matter how shiny or plentiful the jewels were or how they glistened in the sun-

"No." She said firmly, as much to herself as the Servant. "We've got more important things to deal with than jewelry."

Rider made a face that suggested she was somewhat doubtful of that, but fell into line with only a single mournful glance back at the shop window.

They trudged on in silence for a short time longer, when Rider suddenly spoke up. "I've got to ask, Master. Do you actually got a plan to track down whoever's responsible?" The Servant looked at her, gaze serious. "Even if Shirou works with us, finding a single Servant isn't going to be easy."

Rin considered that for a second. It was a good point. Just blindly looking wouldn't likely get them anywhere. But she had a suspicion on that matter. "I... can't say for sure." She replied hesitatingly. "But I think that the Servant responsible might be manipulating people through the ley lines."

It was a long shot, but she found it hard to believe that even a Heroic Spirit could freely drain others from a distance where they couldn't be sensed by other Servants. Not with the degree of power that she'd felt. It wasn't impossible that she was wrong though. The Holy Grail War was an event in which things dubbed impossible quickly became quite likely. Shirou's stories of the Fourth War showed that well enough.

Rider raised an eyebrow at that. "Really? I'm no expert on magic, but that's fairly high end stuff, isn ft it? Can you just do that anywhere?"

Rin shook her head. "No. Even for a truly incredible magus, you'd need a point where the ley lines intersect." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "And there aren't many places where that happens."

"Then do we even need Shirou for this?" Rider asked, frowning slightly. "Couldn't we just check out all the potential areas?"

"I don't know if I'm right." Rin replied, giving a shrug. "The drain might have been the effect of a Noble Phantasm, or maybe the enemy Servant is simply talented enough to not need the ley lines. And even if I am right, having some support for the attack isn't a bad idea, is it?"

Rider considered that for a second, then gave a devious smirk. "And of course, if that support just so happened to continue to the end of the War, well," The smirk grew wider. "Who could say that you saw that coming?"

"What? No!" Rin said, her face rapidly approaching scarlet. "This... this is a temporary partnership. Nothing more!"

"Really?" Rider cockied her head and stared at Rin curiously.

"Yes!" Rin snapped, glaring fiercely at her Servant. If Rider was perturbed by this, she gave no sign. If anything, it seemed to amuse the red-haired woman.

"Well then, Master, we'd best go and get your 'support'." Rider teased, speeding up her pace.. "I'm sure you just can't wait to be 'supported' by Shirou."

"When you say it like that, it sounds suspicious..." Rin's eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. The emphasis the Heroic Spirit was putting on the word 'support' made it sound... weird.

"Don't be silly." Rider said cheerfully. "If you want Shirou to 'support' you for a few nights, then there's no problem. I'm sure he'll be only too happy to 'support' a young lady like yourself." She grinned. "Men always are."

Not for the first time, Rin wondered if using a command seal to permanently close her Servants mouth would be a worthwhile investment.

* * *

><p>Shirou leaned back with a tired sigh. Three hours of solid work, and he hadn't found a single thing. His body was, as far as he could tell, completely normal. The only purpose his investigation had served was to once again drain his prana reserves to near nothing. It was a little dispiriting really.<p>

On the bright side, Assassin seemed to have cheered up. He wasn't sure if she'd resolved whatever had been bothering her or simply put it aside, but either way the maudlin air that had surrounded Assassin had vanished. He certainly wasn't going to question her on it. He didn't want to kick start the whole process again after all.

He stood, stretching as he did so. The thought occurred to him that he hadn't actually eaten since breakfast, a notion confirmed by the dull hunger in his stomach. He gave a rueful smile. _Looks like I was pretty absorbed in my work, huh?_

Still, he could give the place a quick check over before grabbing a late lunch. It wasn't strictly necessary to do so, as everything in here was either dead, or quite self-sufficient but it would be a nice way to unwind after the waste of the last few hours.

A quick analysis of the flowers confirmed that they were in good health. In particular, the deadly nightroses were flowering with vibrant, healthy red petals. That was good. He'd been quite impressed by their seeds' performance against Bazett, but he could certainly think of some improvements to make. For one thing, more thorns. Last night had shown that the most important point was to simply to ensure that the poison entered the enemies blood stream as quickly as possible with the greatest possible volume and concentration. The more points of contact, the better.

Maybe using a nettle for a base would be a good idea? While it would mean effectively cultivating a new species from scratch rather than simply modifying one of his current plants, the tricomes, or stinging hairs, of nettles were quite effective at delivering poisons. It was food for thought.

Turning away from the plants, he moved towards the freezer. Opening the bottom tray, he pulled out a small box. Inside a selection of animal cadavers sat, their bodies preserved by a combination of the low temperature and his magic. They were quite a varied bunch. Everything from a rat, to a swallow, to a small dog. They weren't _quite _normal though. Each one sported numerous modifications; some blatantly unnatural. No dog, for instance, required three rows of teeth and glands that produced a venom more commonly found in adders. His familiars, so to speak. He'd called the additions an improvement. Rin had called them unnecessary and insisted that he keep the modifications to a minimum. He'd obliged. There was at least one body in the pile without any new, lethal additions.

Somewhere.

Probably at the bottom of the box.

He'd created them through the traditional process, transferring either a few drops of blood or a lock of his hair into their bodies, granting them rudimentary magic circuits of a sort. Unfortunately, they were both completely dependant on him for prana and utterly mindless. Their capacity for thought extended to fulfilling his orders and no farther. While the drain was tiny, with all of them combined drawing less prana than Assassin alone did, he'd had no real need for a familiar when he'd first created them. They'd been little more than experiment, created out of curiosity. So he'd shut them down, preserving them for a time when he actually had a purpose for them.

He took out the body of a rat, surveying it with a critical eye. He'd been a fair bit younger when he'd modified its body, so the changes were a little more rough than he would have liked. Still, it would prove perfectly serviceable if need be. Which might well be the case. He gave the remaining bodies a quick check, confirming that they could be activated whenever needed, then replaced them and closed the freezer. He carefully removed the surgical gloves he'd been wearing, throwing them into the disposal bin.

Assassin was still in her astral form, trying to minimise her drain as much as possible, so he spoke to the seemingly empty space where she was standing. It felt... a little odd.

"Alright, I think we're done here." He said. "Fancy something to eat?"

"...Yes." He smiled at the reply. At least some things in life were predictable.

They made their way through the small jungle that surrounded his workshop and then down the stone corridor leading to the kitchen. He frowned as he looked at the selection of ingredients in the fridge. They were running a little low on some essentials, but he could make do for now.

He didn't feel like making anything too fancy and frankly, he was probably best at plain fare anyway. He wasn't a _bad_ cook, but he didn't share Rin's culinary genius either. She'd offered to teach him a few times, but he'd turned her down. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the offer, it was just that he wasn't that interested in learning. He could cook well enough to feed himself, and that was all he needed.

Still, he felt the urge to at least try and put a bit more effort than normal into it. He was cooking for company this time. Though he suspected Assassin would eat pretty much anything he put down on her plate.

Eventually he decided on a simple carrot and coriander soup, with some warmed bread and a light salad to go with it. Not fancy, but filling. Just what the doctor ordered.

A half hour later, he placed the steaming bowls down on the table. By this point he was almost ravenous, mostly thanks to his unintended fast. But apparently not so much so as Assassin, who'd already materialised and started eating.

"How is it?" He asked, settling down on his chair.

The Servants spoon paused for a second, and she nodded. "It's good."

Shirou gave a grin at that. Lacklustre chef he might have been, but it was always nice to see someone enjoying the food you'd made. He dipped his spoon into the soup and gently blew on it, cooling it slightly. He was just about to put it to his mouth when Assassin suddenly froze, her head twisting round to stare through the wall. She opened her mouth, voice quiet and level as she spoke.

"There is a Servant approaching."

Shirou stopped, his stance both cautious and annoyed. Now? Did they really have to come now? Just when he was about to sit down? He gave a rueful shake of his head. There wasn't any point complaining about it.

"Is your presence concealed?" He asked Assassin, putting his spoon down and standing up. She nodded, and he gave a relieved sigh. It looked like she'd learned from her error in the restaurant. Good. That gave him more options to work with, assuming that whoever was approaching didn't already know his identity.

It was possible that they were coming to announce themselves to the local supervisor, as Grail War contestants were supposed to. It wasn't a rule that most followed though. There was too much chance that your identity would be given away, and anonymity was one of the greatest shields a Master had. Losing it over a matter of courtesy wasn't something most Masters were willing to do and with good reason. Unlikely then, but still a possibility.

It might be Lancer or Saber, but he doubted it. Unless Lancer possessed some incredibly potent healing magic, Bazett would still be in poor shape at best, if not dead already. Leaving her alone in that state would be asking for trouble. Saber was more likely, but Ilya had seemed relatively content with their conversation last night. And if she'd wanted to kill him, that would have been the perfect time to do it.

Had someone been spying on their battle last night? It was certainly possible. For Archer or Caster in particular, it would have been positively easy.

He considered his options. His prana reserves were too low now for confrontation to be his first choice. While he could still reinforce himself and use the martial arts Kotomine had taught him, he'd be at a disadvantage against a magus unless he got the drop on them.

"Assassin," He began slowly. "Could you identify our guest, without revealing your presence?"

It was a risk sending her alone, but his stealth capabilities wouldn't fool a Servant for a moment. If he couldn't avoid a fight then he at least wanted to start it with some foreknowledge of what to expect.

The small Servant nodded, and made her way out of the kitchen in silence.

* * *

><p>She slipped through the stone corridors with noiseless footsteps. The other Servant had been making steady progress towards the church, but at no faster than a walking pace. She had a little less than five minutes before they reached the main building, assuming they didn't speed up. Time was of the essence.<p>

She left the confines of the building, speeding up as she did so. Reverting to her astral form, she leapt upwards onto the roof and moved forward to peer over the roof.

The sight that greeted her made her grit her teeth in anger.

Tohsaka Rin.

Next to the magus, a tall, red-headed woman walked confidently. The Servant. Impossible to tell which class she belonged to, but it didn't matter. Her mere presence was a threat.

Only two possibilities presented themselves as to why Rin would show up here, Servant in tow. Either the betrayal of Shirou's trust that Assassin had known was coming had already occurred, or Rin was here to seek an alliance with Shirou.

She didn't know which option was worse.

Her hands reached down to the daggers at her side, fingers grasping their hilts firmly. If she was quick, she might be able to summon The Mist and launch a surprise attack on Rin before the red-haired Servant could move to defend her. It was risky though. The abilities of the opposing Heroic Spirit were unknown, along with her Noble Phantasm. If it had been night, that wouldn't have been a problem. Maria could have eliminated both of them with little trouble. But it was still day, which meant that utilizing her Noble Phantasm's to it's fullest potential was impossible.

And even if she did kill Rin now, Shirou wouldn't understand. He wouldn't see a threat removed, but a friend murdered. He wouldn't forgive her. Her hands released the knives instantly at that. The thought of Shirou turning away from her, hating her, _rejecting her_, was unbearable. No, when she killed Rin, it had to in a way that could not be traced back to her.

But Rin did have to die. Shirou couldn't see what she saw, couldn't see the obvious threat the magus represented. He trusted Rin too much, when the only person that he could truly trust was her, his Servant.

She jumped down into the courtyard, landing silently and making her way back into the church. At the very least, Shirou needed to be alerted to the presence of the other Master.

And if Rin was here for a battle... Well, she'd be more than happy to oblige.

* * *

><p>Shirou felt like slapping himself. There he'd been, inventing theories as to who could be launching an assault on the Kotomine church, and simply forgetting that his best friend was a Master too.<p>

He reached the front door just as another salvo of blows rained down on it. Apparently Rin wasn't in a patient mood. Not an unusual event.

He opened it and Rin stopped, her fist upraised to no doubt further abuse the door. Behind her, a stunningly beautiful woman stood, twirling her crimson locks around her finger. "Kotomine-kun. Good. You're here."

"It's nice to see you too, Rin." He said, smiling sardonically at her abrupt greeting. He paused, taking in the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Have you looked at the TV recently?"

"I've been a little busy." He replied, stepping aside to allow Rin entrance to the church. The voluptous red-haired woman (her Servant, he reminded himself) followed. "I don't think I've met your friend."

Rin sighed. "This is my Servant, Rider."

"A pleasure to meet you, Shirou-kun. My Master's told me much about you." The woman, Rider, extended a hand as she spoke.

He took the proffered limb and shook it firmly. "Kotomine Shirou. The pleasure's mine."

Rider grinned. "My my... Handsome _and_ polite? No wonder my Master's so determined to keep you under wraps."

"That's enough, Rider." Rin growled, making it quite clear that she thought the Servant should be quiet. Rider obliged, but kept a smirk of satisfaction on her face at the frustration in Rin's voice.

Shirou suspected that he was going to get on well with her.

"Anyway Shirou, we should sit down." Rin continued, ignoring her Servant. "This could take a while."

He gave her a curious look at that, but didn't ask for details, leading her through to the living room. Rider followed behind them, and behind her, Assassin. The small Servant watched the two newcomers carefully, her gaze stoic. If Rider was troubled by the presence of the other Servant, she didn't show it, sauntering along with an easy confidence.

Settling down on the couch, he fixed Rin with a stare. "Alright, what's this about?"

"The school got attacked today." Rin said simply. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he sat up. "Mass prana drain. It's been on the local news all day, though they're calling it a gas leak."

"Was anyone killed?" He asked, a little concerned. She shook her head,

"No. We were lucky in that respect. There were a few in bad shape, but most people should be fine after a couple days of bed rest."

"I see..." Shirou said slowly. That was good. For one thing, there were one or two people that he genuinely would have missed if they'd been killed. Like Sakura, or the manager of his old club, Saegusa Yukika. For another, it meant that whoever was behind the incident either hadn't quite mastered the technique, or wasn't directly intending to kill those afflicted. Still, even the fact that people he cared about had been hurt made his blood boil more than he wanted to admit. A thought occurred to him. "Hold on a sec, what about you?"

"I'm fine." Rin said reassuringly. "I managed to shrug it off quickly enough."

"That's good." He said, giving a relieved sigh. Still, the fact that it could even affect Rin was impressive. The prana within her circuits should have negated any foreign manipulation almost instantly. If she wasn't completely safe, then no-one in Fuyuki was. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He doubted that the drain would work on Rin's own territory and the Church had a certain level of protection through its very nature. But the rest of the city was fair game, along with everyone in it. And there were some people he'd rather not let get hurt.

"I don't suppose you know who's responsible?"

"That's actually why I'm here." She said, crossing her arms. "I think it might be Caster, or one of the other Servants' Noble Phantasms."

"Probably Caster." He replied casually. "I've met Saber and Lancer and neither of them seem like the type. We know it's not Assassin or Rider, Archer seems unlikely and I highly doubt Berserker's responsible."

"I see." Rin said thoughtfully. "That's- Wait, what!" Her gaze shot up at him. "You've met Saber and Lancer? When?"

Shirou gave a nod, then briefly ran over the events of last night. He told her about the battle with Lancer and Bazett, the golden light that had carved a crater into the park and his dinner with Ilya. By the time he was finished, Rin was shaking her head, with an incredulous expression

"Shirou, I don't know what to say. I really don't." She rubbed her brow, then looked straight at him. "Could you really not fight the urge to run straight into a battle with a Servant, without knowing anything about them? And then have a meal with another?"

"It turned out alright." He argued, a little petulantly.

"Getting a foot of metal embedded into your chest is _alright?_" Rin exclaimed, her voice a near shriek. To the side, Assassin was giving him a worried look. He'd forgotten that he wafn't told her about it.

"I got better." He replied stubbornly. He paused at that, his face taking on a thoughtful expression. "I was actually wondering if you could help me out with that. I'd quite like to know how I healed, and I haven't been able to find anything myself."

Rin sighed.

"Of course I'll help if I can." She said, voice exasperated. "But can we get back on topic?"

Shirou gestured with his hand, signalling that she could continue whenever she wanted.

"I have a few ideas on how to track the instigator down," Rin said, raising a single finger in the air as she explained. Shirou fought down a smile at the familiar sight. She always adopted that pose when she was explaining something. "But I'd like some support for them, and the assault on wherever they're holing up."

"You mean me." Shirou stated. She nodded.

"That's the idea."

He considered the suggestion. It certainly wasn't a bad plan. The longer they left the enemy a free rein, the more prana they'd accumulate and the more dangerous they'd become. The better chance they'd hurt someone he cared about again too. And it wasn't like he was averse to working with Rin either. In fact, he'd been expecting it. Even looking forward to it.

There was just one slight problem.

"Well, I don't mind the idea." He turned to the right. "What about you, Assassin?"

The small Servant hadn't moved or said anything throughout the conversation, seeming content to sit silently on her chair. Now she looked at him for a moment, expression thoughtful, before moving her gaze over to Rin.

"...Tohsaka Rin." She began slowly. "I would like you to explain the terms of this truce."

Rin nodded, accepting the question. "It's fairly simple. We'll share information about the enemy's location until we find them, while also helping each other on other matters, like Shirou's unexpected healing. Once we track them down, we'll launch a joint assault. After that..." She hesitated. "We'll decide what to do next."

Assassin gave no reply for a second, though Shirou felt that he could take a fair guess as to what it was going to be. Assassin had made her dislike and distrust of Tohsaka Rin painfully clear. The chances of her willingly accepting the idea were fairly low.

"Very well." Assassin said, giving by a small nod. "That is acceptable."

_What_. He did a double take, not even trying to conceal the surprise on his face as he watched the pale-haired Servant. That had been... unexpected, to say the least. Frankly, he'd been expecting to have to convince her. Perhaps the common sense of the argument had appealed to her?

Still, the important part was that Assassin had accepted it. He nodded. "It sounds fine to me, too."

Rin gave a satisfied smile, then extended her hand. "In that case, I'm looking forwards to working with you, Shirou."

He took it, meeting her smile with one of his own. "Same here, Rin."

And so for the second time in two Grail Wars, the Kotomine-Tohsaka alliance was formed.

And the hunt was on.

* * *

><p>Ilya walked along the dark streets with a carefree air, whistling cheerfully in the night air. Beside her, Saber walked, arrayed for battle in full armour. This was a nightly ritual, a patrol through the town seeking the other Masters and Servants. Though she had a specific target in mind tonight.<p>

Suddenly Saber extended a hand, stopping her in her tracks. Ilya gave the Servant a curious glance.

"What's wrong?" Saber didn't reply. She gestured in front of them with her head and took up a combative stance. Ilya turned her head, squinting in the dim light. For a moment she saw nothing, the night concealing whatever Saber had seen from her mortal eyes. Then it came into view, a dark figure making its way toward them, movements slow and heavy.

"There are more of them coming towards us, Ilya." Saber whispered, her voice cautious. "Stay close to me."

But the figure had stopped and made no further movements. Now that it was no longer moving, details began to come into sight. The figure wasn't human, that much was clear. It resembled a mockery of a human skeleton, far heavier built than any normal man. It clutched an old sword in its hand as it stood silently, watching her with empty sockets. And it was not alone.

Already two dozen of the skeletal warriors had trudged their way into sight, and she had little doubt that still more hid in the shadows beyond her sight. To a normal magus such a horde would have been intimidating, a dark army dragged from the mists of the past.

She couldn't help but think how pointless it was.

There was no way that these things could match any Servant, no matter how weak. And she had Saber, the strongest Servant of all. These skeletons weren't even a distraction.

Even as that though crossed her mind, a section of the night twisted and a cloaked woman appeared, along with a man dressed in dark blue robes. The Master and Servant had revealed themselves then.

"Greetings, lady of the Einzbern." The man said hoarsely, stepping forward into a low bow. "I have been looking forward to our meeting for some time."

She peered at him. He seemed fairly old, with wispy tufts of hair and a face beginning to visibly wrinkle. The most notable trait he had though, was the ragged scar that reached across his neck, the wound seeming red and livid in the light. No doubt the source of his raspy voice.

"Do I know you?" She said calmly, stepping forward. Saber tensed behind her at the movement, but didn't stop her.

The man stopped, a bemused expression crossing his face. "You do not recognise me? I am Constantin Escherdt!"

Ilya thought about that for a second. The name Escherdt did ring a bell...

"Ah!" She slapped her fist into her palm. "That's right. You're from a Romanian clan, aren't you?"

Constantin stared at her. "You... do not know of me? Personally?" He sounded somewhat disbelieving, as if a long held truth was being torn away from him.

Ilya shrugged. "Should I?"

For a moment, the magus was still. Then a slow, cruel laughter rose into the night.

"So... I wasn't even worth that much to you, Emiya? I wasn't even a footnote in your life?" His hand began scratching furiously at the wound on his throat, his nails drawing forth blood. Ilya winced slightly as droplets began spattering to the floor. "You didn't even feel the need to warn your daughter of me? Truly, Emiya? I WASN'T EVEN WORTH THAT MUCH!"

The last sentence came out as a pained howl, ripping from his throat. Constantin turned his gaze, wild and angry, on Ilya. A bloodied hand reached out, as if to grasp her throat. "Fine! So be it, Emiya! You'll regret it, I'll turn your daughter into a damn puppet! She'll squeal and bark and yelp on my order, the little bitch!" His face turned up to the sky as he rasped out threat after threat. "How about that, Emiya!"

_Yet another magus with a grudge against my father? Does he think that makes him unique in some way?_ Ilya mused within her mind. He was hardly the only one to have a score with her father, though most had stopped caring once Kiritsugu had died. Constantin seemed to be a little more fervent about it than most though, almost frighteningly so. But a hero couldn't be intimidated, couldn't be worried. They had to be perfect andable to deal with anything both calmly and with precision. They had to always make the right choices.

Like her father.

"Tell me," Ilya began. "Are you behind the attack on the school today?"

Constantin paused his screeched vitriol at her question, then laughed again, waving his bloodied hand in an exaggerated gesture. "Indeed I am, Miss Einzbern! I gathered the power to hunt you-"

"That's all I needed to know." Ilya said, interrupting him. She'd found her prey. The homunculus turned her head slightly, towards the knight behind her. "Saber, kill him."

Constantin's eyes widened momentarily. It was all he had time for before Saber was surging forwards, little more than a silver blur in the light. Skeletal warriors lumbered to block her path, battered weapons upraised to strike, but were shattered almost instantly, their fragments scattered across the road by the invisible blade of the King of Knights.

"Caster!" Constantin screamed, staring in horror at the sight of the swordswoman's unstoppable approach, at the palpable waves of power emanating from her, at the sight of the broken bodies of the dragon tooth warriors.

The Heroic Spirit shot upwards, cloak resembling nothing so much as twisted wings as she took to the air, Master dragged behind her with chains of power. She incanted rapidly and balls of light began to form, each containing power enough to level a building, enough force to make even a Servant pause.

Saber didn't even hesitate.

"Invisible Air: Release!"

The sword swept round as she called out the name of the Bounded Field of the Wind King, unleashing a storm of unparalleled savagery upon the other Servant. It swept forward like a wind of calamity, leaving nought but destruction in its path.

Caster's hands shot forwards, abandoning the spells forming around her as she desperately created a barrier. The howling tempest struck the construct, lashing against it with all the fury of the storm. For a moment, the two powers strained against each other, each striving to outlast the other.

And then the barrier broke.

The tempest seemed to howl in triumph as it swept through the shards of the shield, compressed air breaking bones and rupturing flesh, casting the Servant to ground, her form shattered.

Constantin screamed in pain as he hit the tarmac, Caster's fall having dragged him behind her. For a moment, he lay still, pain wracking his form.

And then he looked up.

She walked towards him, vibrant and bright, the very essence of power. The light glinting off of her silver armour cast her in a divine aura as she neared, golden sword radiant. He crawled backwards, fear tracing its way across his face.

"Caster!" He screamed once more, voice screeching out of his ruined throat. "Get me out of here!"

A flare of light burst on his hand and the cloaked Servant was pulled towards him like a rag doll, the magical compulsion overriding even her own pain. Saber shot forward, blade upraised, seeking his head.

For a moment, the scene was frozen. The golden blade reaching for his flesh, the cloak engulfing his body.

And then time resumed, and in a blur of motion, Constantin was gone.

Ilya walked forwards, an irritated look on her face as she stared at the point where the opposing Master had been just a moment before.

"My apologies, Ilya." Saber said, moving besides her. "I was a little too slow."

Ilya glanced at Excalibur. Blood ran down the edges of the golden blade, proof that Constantin had not escaped unharmed. She supposed that she could take some satisfaction in that at least. But it wouldn't stop him from draining the prana of innocents. If anything, it would just drive him to do increase the rate at which it occurred, his utter defeat having revealed the difference in power between their Servants.

"It's fine." She said eventually, turning away. "He can't run from us forever, and we'll find him, no matter where he hides."

She walked onwards and Saber followed, pausing only to recreate the barrier around her blade. A howling tempest compressed itself around the sword, concealing its legendary form from sight once more.

That done, the pair walked off into the dark city once more, their pace faster than before. Time was of the essence.

There was no point giving the prey time to build itself a burrow after all.

-End-


	10. Reason

**A/N: Well, it's a new chapter. It took... some time. As I warned, University's slowing me down. That said, I'm probably past the worst of it for a while, so the next update should be a fair bit quicker. **

* * *

><p>The rat moved through the sewer quickly, paying no attention to the waste that surrounded it. Its mind was focused on the singular goal of covering as much ground as possible. It would search every nook and cranny and explore every inch of even the foulest places. Such were its orders.<p>

Inside its consciousness, Shirou was dissatisfied. This particular rodent was one of three that he'd sent to explore the sewer network beneath Fuyuki and like the rest, it hadn't found a single trace of a Servant. Or any kind of magecraft at all for that matter. Increasingly, he beginning to suspect that the sewers were a dead end as far as finding a Servant went. It'd be too much to ask for them to be used as a hiding place for the second war in a row after all.

Still, that was the area he'd agreed to search while Rin covered the surface. He didn't mind that; it made sense. Rin's 'owls' weren't suited for investigating cramped, underground areas and could search far more efficiently with unrestricted flight. It was just that he'd spent the last five hours staring at sewage through the eyes of a rat. And that got a little tiresome after a while.

He drew his mind out of the rodents form and his senses returned to their proper places within his body. Blinking rapidly, Shirou stretched, muscles cramped a little from sitting still in one place for so long. Luckily, inserting his mind into a familiar's body required only a tiny amount of prana to maintain, so he was still fine on that account. He sent a final mental command to the rats, ordering their return. Just leaving them down there was a waste after all.

"Are you alright?" Assassin asked from beside him, her voice concerned. He sighed. After her discovery of his brush with death yesterday the Servant had been watching him like a hawk, as if she suspected that he was just waiting for a chance to acquire new, even more life threatening injuries.

"I'm fine." He replied reassuringly, glancing at his watch as he did so. Two 'o clock. Than meant he had three hours until the meeting time he'd agreed on with Rin the day before. He really didn't feel like spending it inside a rat's head, especially not if it was going to be futile anyway. "Just a little cramped from sitting down for so long."

_Maybe I should check up on Yukika? _He thought idly. The idea had a certain appeal. For one thing, it'd let him stretch his legs and get some fresh air. For another, he hadn't talked to her in some time. While she wasn't as close to him as Rin, she'd been a fairly constant presence in his life up until a year ago. She'd spent _weeks_ trying to persuade him to come back to the track club after he left. He smiled slightly at the memory of the young girl following him around with uncharacteristic stubbornness, all but shouting into his ear. There were certainly worse ways to spend an hour than a conversation with her. He could check in on some of his other classmates, and Sakura, while he was there too. Maybe even show Assassin the city in a more relaxed setting.

Before he could consider that though, he had to make sure that his latest experiment was still alive. He stood up and moved towards the window, legs complaining slightly at the sudden movement. Sitting there, basking in the sunlight, was his newest creation.

He'd based it on Rubus Idaeus, more commonly known as the red raspberry. It didn't much resemble Rubus Idaeus anymore. The common raspberry plant, for instance, didn't kill any insect that came within reach with spiny tendrils, then proceed drain it of its life force, or draw in the natural mana within the surrounding area. Just another example of how magecraft could improve on nature.

He'd developed the idea for plant last night, after Rin had left. The basic idea was simple: Create a plant capable of taking in mana from the nearby environment (or od from insects and small animals) and then storing it in edible fruits. With a sufficient number of plants, spread over a wide enough area, he would likely never have to worry about prana consumption again. In theory anyway. It was actually an idea he'd tried before, to magnificent and utter failure. While creating a plant capable of draining od from living beings was relatively easy (as his wasting thistle exemplified), granting one the ability to process mana was remarkably challenging. Even his wasting thistles weren't capable of actually storing the od they stole. To put it simply, it meant giving the flora functioning magic circuits and that was something he hadn't even begun to know how to do.

It was only when he'd been activating his old familiars last night that the thought had struck him. To make a familiar, a magus added a part of their own body to the creation and imbued it with rudimentary magic circuits. And there was no law that said a familiar had to be an _animal._ It was just that most magi wouldn't bother even trying to turn a plant into a familiar. They wouldn't have any means to control it for one, and they couldn't manipulate it in any meaningful way either.

Those were two deficiencies that Kotomine Shirou didn't share.

Peering over the plant, he gave a satisfied nod. It was certainly healthy and seemed to already be trying to start leeching mana from the air. That was good. He'd accelerated its growth quite a bit, to the point that he'd been a little worried that he might have damaged it. He'd have to move it out soon though, or the workshop would be rendered virtually unusable for magecraft.

The most important point, however, had yet to be realised. Simply draining mana wasn't enough. He needed the plant to be able to be able to store it in a method he could access. Storing it in a fruit would be preferable. That had actually been why he'd chosen a raspberry plant to act as the base. But if need be, he'd eat the damn stem. He wasn't going to picky about what was quite possibly the most important discovery he'd ever made.

Satisfied that he'd done all he could for now, he opened the door of the workshop and took a deep breath of the fresh air that entered. Peeling off his gloves and depositing them in the disposal bin, he walked out into the sunlight with Assassin walking beside him.

"Feel like a stroll?" He asked, turning his head over his shoulder to glance at the small Servant. She paused for a second to consider the question. He fought down a smile at that. The strange seriousness with which Assassin sometimes treated even the simplest of questions was rather cute. After a moment, she met his eyes.

"Is there anywhere in particular that we will be heading, Shirou?"

He nodded. "I'm thinking of visiting some friends at the hospital, but if we've got time after that then we can just walk around for a bit."

"…I see." Assassin said calmly. "That would be fine then." She cocked her head suddenly, as if a novel idea had suddenly occurred to her. "Could we get something to eat while we are out?"

He snorted in amusement at that. "I'm sure I'll be able to fit into the schedule somewhere."

Now that he thought about it, he still had to get Assassin some new clothes. While she was fond of his old T-shirt and jeans, he couldn't help but feel that she would quite like something else too. He sighed. Clothes shopping really wasn't his speciality, especially when it came to woman's clothing. That was Rin's area, and he couldn't help but suspect that Assassin wouldn't be appreciative of any fashion advice Rin gave.

Well, it wasn't like there was a time limit on when he had to do it. Maybe once Yukika got out of hospital, he could ask for her help. He frowned at the thought of the bedridden girl. He needed to get her a get-well present…

His mind idly passing from one thought to another, Shirou strode down the hill, Assassin at his side.

* * *

><p>Perched on the branch of a dead tree, the owl gazed steadily at the temple several hundred feet away from the familiar.<p>

_That answers the question of where Caster's hiding then_. Rin thought grimly, seated down in her house more than a mile away. The magecraft permeating the mountain temple was palpable, far surpassing any bounded field she'd ever seen before. There was no doubt that the magus of the Servants had made their home there. And tactically, she had to admit, it was an excellent choice.

Not only did the temple have a natural barrier that weakened spiritual presences but it was seated directly above an intersection of leylines, allowing long distance manipulation of prana. Something she'd already seen the results of. Combined with the formidable magics that wrapped the place like a shroud, it was a self-sufficient fortress. Assaulting it would be a chore she could do without, but it wasn't like she had a choice. As the current head of Tohsaka, dealing with indiscreet magi in Fuyuki was her responsibility.

Still, she'd have help for the attack itself and Caster had only recently began draining the life-force of the city. She shouldn't have accrued too much power at this point.

"Any luck, Master?" Rider asked from the side. Rin nodded.

"I think I've tracked Caster down." She said, giving a final mental command to the amethyst owl watching Caster's lair. "There's a Servant holed up in Ryuudouji temple, and they've set up incredibly powerful barriers around the site."

"That doesn't mean it's Caster." Rider replied, looking slightly concerned. "I may be bad at magecraft, but you shouldn't hold me as the rule. Heroes often excel in multiple fields, so don't get too focused on our classes."

"Maybe." Rin said, voice doubtful. "But these bounded fields are on a whole different level. I honestly can't see it being anyone _but_ Caster." She continued, hand gesturing as she explained. "And even if I'm wrong, whoever's camped there is definitely the one behind the attack on the school. Their identity is secondary to that."

"I guess." Rider sighed, leaning back. After a few seconds, she shook her head and grinned. "Well, whatever! Worrying ain't like me. Whoever it is, we just need to defeat them when the time comes, right?"

"That's right." Rin agreed.

Truth be told, she was a little excited. While her anticipation of the Grail War had never matched Shirou's, the thought of competing in what was considered the ultimate test of a magus did intrigue her a little. And to see how her skills matched up against the other Masters, how her magecraft fared against theirs…

It was certainly interesting to think about.

"I suppose we'll be paying the place a visit tonight then?"

Rin turned to face her Servant, pulled from her thoughts by the query. "I'd imagine so. We don't want to give them any more time to settle in than we have to." She shrugged. "But I can't say for sure. Shirou might have found something that changes the situation."

"Oh?" Rider gave a smile, and Rin felt her stomach sink at the vicious expression crossing the Servant's face. "You're allowing Shirou to help choose the course of action? That's very cooperative of you, Master. I was expecting you to be leading him around on a leash."

"This _is_ a partnership, Rider." Rin said, purposefully not looking the Servant in the eye as she spoke. For just a second, an image of Shirou wearing nothing but a leash had sprung to mind, along with a vivid blush across her face. No doubt just as Rider intended. "I can't just do whatever I want."

"True enough. And I'm sure Shirou is an excellent partner in any activity you care to think of." Rider grinned at Rin's crimson visage but then frowned. "Not so sure about Assassin though."

Rin gave her Servant a curious look. Rider's talent for switching between mockery and businesslike at a whim was aggravating, but increasingly she was noticing that her Servant was surprisingly perceptive.

"What do you mean?"

Rider shrugged. "She wanted to kill you yesterday. Quite badly, too."

Rin blinked, unsure that she'd quite understood what Rider had said. She'd suspected that Assassin didn't like her, given the glare she'd received on their first meeting, but murderous intent seemed… excessive. "Really?"

"Oh _yes." _Rider confirmed. "She was doing a stellar job of hiding it, but when you first suggested a partnership she slipped a little. I just caught it by chance. Or luck if you prefer. I would have told you earlier, but you seemed to have enough on your plate moving those owls around."

"You should have told me anyway. This is… important." She chided her Servant absentmindedly, already deep in thought. If Rider was telling the truth (and she had no reason to believe she wasn't) then this was a problem on several levels. Working alongside Assassin would provide the small Servant with numerous opportunities to strike at her.

_Which was likely why she'd agreed so easily. _The thought chilled her. If Rider hadn't noticed, then what might have happened?

A stupid question. She knew damn well what would have happened and it wouldn't have ended well for her.

"I don't suppose you could take a guess as to why?"

Rider paused in thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Could be any number of reasons. Maybe she's looking for a chance to take out some of the competition for the Grail. Perhaps you remind her of someone she knew in her past life." Rider grinned, her teeth bared viciously. "Or maybe she's just a psychopath. Take your pick."

Rin sighed, rubbing her head wearily. She wasn't sure how to deal with this. She couldn't afford to be peering over her back every time Assassin was around, but her options were limited. The simplest course of action would be to tell Shirou, but how would he react? What could he even do, short of using a command seal to suppress Assassin's movements? Command seals weren't even that effective over the long term. And that was assuming he even believed her. Her only evidence was Rider's word, something Shirou had no reason to trust.

Striking first wasn't an appealing choice either. Shirou would just interpret it as a attack and react accordingly. That was to say, with all-out warfare. A pitched battle with him was something she'd been hoping to avoid, not provoke.

Which left the most basic thing she could do. Being cautious. She snorted in bitter amusement at the thought. Caution was hardly enough, given that she was facing a Heroic Spirit. And one specialised in assassination at that.

Her line of thought was ended when Rider gave her a hearty slap on the back, almost doubling her over.

"Don't worry about it so much, Master!" The crimson haired Servant laughed, even as Rin pulled herself back up. "Leave this kind of stuff to me. You make your plans and I'll see them through, ok?"

Despite herself, Rin smiled and shook her head. Rider was right. It wasn't like her to endlessly chew stuff like this over anyway. If Assassin became a problem, she'd just grind her into dust. That was the kind of person Tohsaka Rin was. "That's right. You're my Servant after all."

Rider laughed again, then gave Rin a shrewd look. "Well then, how about you reward this loyal Servant by taking her to this 'mall' I've heard about? We've got a few hours till the rendezvous with Shirou, right?"

Rin hesitated at the suggestion. Fresh air and a stretch sounded tempting; Taking Rider to a shopping mall less so. Eventually, she gave a mental shrug. It wasn't like Rider could force her to buy things. Though she couldn't help but wonder where Rider had heard of the shopping mall to begin with. Had it come up in her conversation with Shirou yesterday?

"Well, I suppose we could take a stroll over there…" She began slowly, slightly hesitant despite herself.

The grin that spread over Rider's face created immediate regret about that particular decision.

* * *

><p>Shirou liked the idea of hospitals. He really did. They were places dedicated to saving lives and that was a worthy goal no matter how you spun it. They also contained any number of illnesses, all interesting in their own ways. The problem, however, was that while the idea was appealing, the actual reality was a tad different.<p>

They frustrated him. So many injuries, ones that he could heal with little more than a thought, and yet he was forced to leave be. So many fascinating collections of viruses and bacteria, and he couldn't analyse them as he wished. So many people shouting and bawling over one meaningless complaint or another. It was almost like some form of customised torment, specifically designed to grate on his nerves.

And the endless, _endless_ bureaucracy. The simple act of seeing a friend took queuing up, signing a sign-in sheet, signing a visitors form, signing a disclaimer… It was enough to drive a man to insanity. Or at least drive him to throttle the receptionist. The smug bastard.

Eventually though, the last of the red tape was ticked off and he made his way through the sterile halls. Assassin moved behind him in spectral form, silent and invisible. More and more he was beginning to appreciate just how useful the spiritual nature of a Servant's existence was. It allowed them to go virtually anywhere, completely undetectable to almost anyone. No security measure was tight enough, no defence impenetrable…

_And most importantly, it means I don't have to sign her in. _He gloated in the depths of his own mind. He was aware that it was a petty victory but after the last half hour of boredom, he'd take what he could get. _Take that, Mr 'Please-sign-here-and-here-and-here-and-here'!_

It wasn't that far to Saegusa's room and so less than five minutes later he was standing in front of a plain door. He raised a hand to knock, then frowned. Now that he thought about it, the very fact that Saegusa had a room to herself was a little strange. Fuyuki had more than one hospital, but almost all of the students afflicted by the attack on the school had been taken to the nearest. This one, to be precise. Apparently they'd pretty much swamped the place when they arrived. Giving a room to one student in particular, while others were sharing seemed a bizarre move to make. Perhaps they'd transferred some of the students to other hospitals once it became clear that their condition was non-critical. Eventually he shrugged and brought his hand down sharply onto the wood. It wasn't anything worth getting excited about. A cheerful, melodic voice answered the rapping.

"Come in!"

He entered the room, holding the door open a moment longer than normal to allow Assassin uninhibited access. Sitting up on her bed, Yukika's surprised expression rapidly became a wide smile.

"Shirou-kun! It's been ages." She patted the side of the bed. "C'mon. Sit! Sit!"

He obliged, sliding down onto the suggested spot. "It's nice to see you, Saegusa-san. How are you?"

The girl gave him a dissatisfied look. "Saegusa-san, Shirou-kun? That's a little formal."

"Yukika-chan." The smile returned to her face.

"That's right. And I'm fine. Just a little tired really." She said. "How about you though? I heard that you weren't at school yesterday."

He nodded. "That's right. I was helping my father out in the church, cleaning up the basement. It's become a real mess lately."

A flat out lie of course, but one that was practically ironclad.

"Lucky you." Yukika responded, scrunching her face up to show her jealousy. "You get to spend a few days doing whatever you want, while the rest of us are stuck in here."

"Oh, shush." He said, dismissing her complaints. "You got a room to yourself, didn't you?" His eyes wandered over to her bedside table and he grinned. The entire thing was virtually covered in cards and gifts, ranging from flowers to chocolates to novels. "And what's this huge pile of get-well presents? Mine's going to look a little sad next to this."

He pulled out the box of chocolates he'd bought anyway, placing it on top of the small mountain that had built up. Yukika looked a little embarrassed.

"You didn't need to…"

He dismissed the complaint with wave of his hand. "It's fine. I would have felt awkward bringing nothing at all."

The girl blushed for a moment, then gave him a sly look. Or what Yukika imagined was a sly look anyway. She didn't quite have it down. It looked more like she was squinting at him than anything else. "You know, Shirou-kun, if you really wanted me to get better then-"

"I'm not coming back to the club." His reply was quick and absolute. The rapid fall of Yukika's expression told him that he'd guessed her intentions quite accurately.

"Oh come on, Shirou-kun? Please? Somebody's got to succeed me after I leave, y'know?"

"Yukika-san, we're in the same year." He sighed, with the air of one who's heard this argument many, many times before. "When you leave, I'll be heading out too."

Yukika gave him a petulant look, but turned away. "Well, maybe I'll be leaving fairly soon. Did you think about that?" She murmured into space.

He blinked. "What was that?"

Her head shot round, expression panicked as she waved her arms in the air frantically. "Ah! Ah, it was nothing. Just me venting a little frustration. Been cooped up for a little too long."

"You've been here for little more than a day." Shirou said, raising an eyebrow. "That's too long?"

Yukika laughed sheepishly, blushing slightly.

The conversation settled down after that as they chatted amiably about inconsequential things. He had to admit, it was nice to simply talk to someone. Not about plans, or the oncoming war, but just about pointless, fun things. Sitting here in this quiet room, the sun piercing through the window, created such a strange contrast with the battles and frantic research that had consumed his time over the last few days.

After a while, Shirou checked his watch. Three thirty five. If he wanted to grab a bite to eat with Assassin before heading back, he'd have to leave soon. Finding a break in the conversation, he spoke up. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Yukika-chan, but I've got to head off now. I've got a meeting to get to."

"A date?" She asked, eyes twinkling as she looked up with interest.

He laughed. "Not exactly. More a headache waiting to be."

"Well, if you're leaving, could you open a window? It's getting a little stuffy in here."

He obliged, moving off the bed and pushing the glass frame open. The sudden influx of air swept through the room, pushing a card from its precarious perch on top of the small hill of gifts. Picking it up, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering down to what was written inside.

_Dear Yu-chan._

_I don't know what to say really. I'll be round to see you later, but take this to tide you over. My smiling words will reach your heart through this letter!_

_Just don't worry about it, alright? There's gotta be something the doctors can do! _

_Hang in there! _

_Fujimura 'Tiger' Taiga_

He blinked. Next to the name was a small depiction of a tiger clinging to a tree, a speech bubble leading up to the words 'Hang in there!' He wasn't sure what was more shocking: that Fujimura Taiga had actively used her name as a pun (something she forgave from no-one) or that she'd felt the need to give Yukika a get well card to begin with. Yukika was in the same boat as everyone else, surely? Why give a get well card to someone who was suffering the same problems as yourself? And the way she'd wrote it…

A feeling of suspicion began to gnaw at him, a persistent whisper in his mind that something was wrong. That he was ignoring something obvious.

"Shirou? What's wrong?" Yukika said curiously, peering up at him from her spot on the bed. The spot she hadn't moved from during the entire time he'd been here. Her gaze fell down to the card in his hand and her expression froze. The suspicion grew.

"Analysis start." The words left his mouth as a whisper, barely even perceptible to his own ears, but their effect was no less potent for their volume. His senses expanded, taking in the pulse of life that surrounded him. He could feel the blood within his own body, feel the pulse of his heart and the very feeling of life itself suffusing his body.

And he could see Yukika. Beneath the covers, beneath the clothes, beneath the skin, beneath the layers of fat and muscle, he could see it. A single crack. Had it been in her arm it would have been nothing. A few weeks of healing. In her legs, it would have been aggravating, keeping her from her beloved track club for at least a month.

It was in her spine.

* * *

><p>Caster moved aside quickly as a desk came flying in her direction. She wasn't sure if her Master was aiming at her specifically, or just venting his frustration on anything that he could. The room was a wreck, the ancient walls of the temple battered from both magic and thrown furniture. Constanin's rage was a thing to behold as he stormed throughout the temple, lashing out at random. A few of the monks had already been subject to his attacks and she was fairly sure that they wouldn't be getting up again.<p>

He hadn't taken the loss against the Einzbern girl very well.

Truth be told, she was more than a little shaken herself. The battle against Saber hadn't been a fight so much as an execution. She'd been aware that as the Caster of the war, she was traditionally considered amongst the weakest of the Servant classes. She'd accepted that and understood that if she was to win, it would be through the careful gathering of power and playing her opponents against each other rather than brute force. Nevertheless, the sheer difference in power between herself and the silver-armoured knight was horrifying. Try as she might, she couldn't think of any circumstances that could allow her to defeat the swordswoman. It just seemed… impossible. An unreachable goal.

She shook her head and focused on more positive thoughts, such as the advantages last night had brought about. She smirked. For one thing, her Master had used a second command seals, the second of his shields against her wrath. If he were just forced into one more situation like that, one more choice between life or death…

Well, she had more than a few grudges to bring to bear.

She became aware that the constant cacophony of sound had ended, casting the temple into a dead silence. It appeared that her Master's rage had burnt itself out, something that was confirmed by the approaching footsteps.

He was certainly composed, his face calm and steady once more. She noticed that fresh blood was coming from his scar. No doubt because he'd been stretching the wound with his wretched screaming all day.

"Caster…" He began slowly, voice hoarse as he broke into a fit of coughing. She waited patiently. He still had one seal left after all, more than enough to force her to end her own life if need be. Eventually, the rough sounds ceased, and the magus wiped his mouth of a bloody phlegm. She fought down a vicious smile at the sight of the bastard's suffering.

"Caster." He repeated, firmer this time. "Begin your feeding once more. But do it faster this time." His eyes narrowed. "Take as much as you can, as quickly as you can."

Caster nearly spat in his face. Did the fool have any idea what he asked? The rampant stupidity of his order? The ley lines were ancient, powerful flows of energy, not some convenient source of food. Restraint had to exercised so as not to damage the channels themselves. And to take as much as possible? Idiocy. The wisest course of action was to take only a certain amount from every individual. Draining enough to kill them was wasteful; you merely robbed yourself of a future source of power.

"Master…" She started, determined to stop this foolishness before it began.

He punched her.

She fell to the ground, clutching at her jaw. The blow was not that painful. Physically weak as she was, she was still a Servant. No un-enhanced blow by a normal human could truly damage her. But the shame of having to endure this beating burned like a hot coal against her mind. There was also some satisfaction at her Master's obvious panic though. She remembered, no more than two days ago, his cool, foreboding nature. To see him reduced to this from no more than a single battle was amusing.

"Shut up!" He screeched at her, the composure of only a moment ago already gone. "Shut up! Just do it! You saw how easily Saber defeated you yesterday! Do you want that to happen again! Do you?"

"No, Mas-" His foot lashed out, striking her on the chin. Constanin glared down at her prone form with frustration in his eyes.

"Shut up! Just do it!" He turned on his heel at and stalked into the recesses of the Temple, blue robes trailing behind him.

Drawing herself to her feet, she glared at the departing figures back. She was tempted to try and kill him now, while he was so obviously distracted, but overruled the murderous impulse. All it would take was him sensing the build up of magic and she'd be dead. Her Divine Words allowed her to vastly outpace any modern magi in terms of spell casting, but the command seals were faster still.

She turned her attention to view of the city below. Her Master was a cowardly fool, but there was some truth in his words. If she was to even escape a confrontation with Saber with her life intact, more power would be required.

_I am so very fortunate that the people of this city are generous. _The thought made her smirk, even as she began to reach along the ley lines once more.

* * *

><p>Rider had to admit it: the world had become far more convenient. In her own time, going from a jeweler to a baker, and then to a clothier would have taken an hour at least. But here, in this shopping mall, it was a five minute walk to reach practically any kind of store you wanted. It made spending her money so much more convenient.<p>

That was, if she'd had any money.

She sighed mournfully, glancing at her Master. Tohsaka Rin had many admirable qualities, but it appeared a generous heart was not among them. The magus had made it quite clear how much money she was intending to spend here. It wasn't a lot.

Still, Rider had gone through tough times before. There was more than one way to get what you wanted. Most people would fold when you pointed a gun at their face, for instance. If that wasn't an option (and sometimes if it was) then seduction tended to be consistently viable. And finally, the simplest option of all: Steal it when they weren't looking.

Of course, her Master had made her opinion on common theft fairly obvious, which meant that she also had to dodge Rin's gaze. That was fine. She liked a challenge, and the pockets concealed inside her coat were quite deep. Let her overly honourable Master look all she liked.

In less than a half hour, she found herself quite pleased with her growing collection of knick-knacks. A few books, a full set of lingerie, a rather fetching shawl and a box of expensive chocolate were but the tip of her larcenous iceberg. Jewelry had proven rather hard to get hold off though, as most stores seemed to use glass panels to prevent people from doing, well, exactly what she wanted to do.

Eventually though, she'd found a shop of wonderfully trusting and kind individuals, who had more than one set of jewellery exposed to open air and only a single camera with a rather poor coverage of the shop. Just the sort of people she liked to meet. She'd robbed them blind of course, but she'd happily recommend their store to anyone who asked.

"I'm going to get a drink." Rin declared from next to her, drawing her from her contemplation of her newfound… acquisitions. " I don't suppose you want anything?"

"Alcoholic?" Rider asked hopefully. Rin shook her head, and she gave a despairing sigh. No sex, no alcohol and an ever decreasing amount of weed for her pipe. She hadn't even gotten into any fights yet. The Holy Grail War was proving itself to be a bit of a let down. Why, if Rin wasn't so incredibly fun to tease she'd have been bored out of her mind! And if it hadn't been for the small flask of whisky (stolen) on her upper left inside pocket, even that might not have been enough to see her through!

As Rin departed to get her drink, Rider allowed her eyes to wander over the people in the food court below. People watching was a hobby she'd taken up to kill time when Lizzie had made those tiresome speeches. The trick was to watch the corners of the crowd, where people weren't hemmed in and being watched by those around them. People always acted so straight-laced when they felt the eyes of their peers upon them. It was only when they felt that they were not truly being observed that they began to let their true natures show.

She blinked as a familiar face came into sight. Or rather two familiar faces. Kotomine Shirou and Assassin sat at a table together, eating what appeared to be some kind of sandwiches. Or that was the cover, at least. They seemed slightly tense, as if ready to leap into action at any moment. She wondered why.

Ah. Of course. How silly of her. Assassin may have been able to escape her senses, but that wasn't a mutual thing. No doubt the pale haired Servant was already close to working out her exact position. As if on cue, a small head turned up to look straight at her. The enmity in the pale blue eyes was palpable even at this distance.

She waved.

* * *

><p>Shirou stared into space dully, his mind in turmoil. One thought in particular sprang to the forefront of his mind again and again, no matter how he tried to push it aside.<p>

Saegusa Yukika would likely never walk unaided again.

He felt like slapping himself. There he'd been, cheerily talking about useless little things, blowing off Yukika's attempt to get him to rejoin the track club, and completely ignoring the hints that something had been wrong. Every word he'd spoke must have been like a stabbing a dagger into her heart. And she'd been smiling all the while.

He'd left soon after, checking up on a few students he knew. They'd all been partitioned to a joint ward though, their injuries being less serious. Sakura apparently hadn't been in school that day, which he supposed was a good thing and all the others had been suffering from little more than exhaustion. Apart from Yukika, almost everybody seemed to have come out of the attack in fairly good shape.

Apart from Yukika.

'_You've been here for little more than a day. That's too long?'_

The memory of that stupid, cruel sentence kept coming back. _What a pointless thing to say. Maybe I should have finished up with 'Wait till you see what the rest of your life has in store!', just to twist the knife._

And the reason for the injury had been so incredibly stupid. She had a habit of jumping small flights of stairs, and had been heading full pelt down one at the time of the attack. When she'd blacked out, she'd fallen badly. The drop had barely been a few metres. Apparently, the doctor had said that the chances of it occurring had been incredibly miniscule. This was a freak accident, he'd insisted, as if that would somehow make her feel better.

But that wasn't the worst part. That wasn't the worst part at all.

The worst part was that he'd _left_ her there.

His analysis had told him pretty much everything about the injury. It had occurred in the Thoracic region of the spine, cracking one of the vertebrae. The bone itself hadn't been that badly damaged, but the nerves inside were wrecked. Not complete paraplegia, but severe enough to be crippling. Even with the very best medical care, the chances of them healing was pretty much nonexistent. Which meant that Yukika, to whom the track club was her pride and joy, would never walk again without the help of crutches

But he could heal that. He could _save her_.

And he hadn't.

Because the doctor would have asked questions. Because people didn't just let things like spontaneous healing of spinal nerves, little more than twenty four hours after they'd been damaged, go unnoticed. Because that single act of goodwill could have destroyed his world. Magi had hid themselves from the public. They wouldn't appreciate him healing some nobody in a hospital, lighting a beacon for people to find them.

And even if he'd managed to keep his involvement secret, where did that leave Yukika? The miracle girl, who'd healed overnight from a crippling injury. If they asked, she'd turn herself into a bloody lab rat, so that they could poke her and prod her for answers they wouldn't find. She was too good-natured to say no. They'd probably show her pictures of some poor little child and off she'd go to waste her life.

Once she'd left the hospital, and the continual oversight, he could do something; subtly create an improvement in her condition. It would be slow and steady, enough so that the doctors would chalk it up to their own efforts. But right now he couldn't do anything. Not even tell her that he could fix her. Not without putting himself and those he cared about at risk. Not without alerting her to the existence of a world she knew nothing about and should know nothing of. The Mage's Association were not discriminating when it came to hiding evidence about themselves. Rin, his father, Yukika… They might well have been charged as guilty by association.

He snorted. Here he was, a contestant in a war that was about as showy as you could get without a neon sign declaring your status as a magi to the world at large, yet unable to heal a single girl without potentially bringing the Association down on him and everyone he cared about like the proverbial ton of bricks. Or ruining her life in a new, exciting manner. It was beyond stupid.

Yukika had wished him farewell, not knowing that simply by leaving that room, he was committing a betrayal. He'd given her a nod and said he'd come again. And he would. But he wouldn't heal her then either.

She'd spend weeks in a hospital, convinced that she'd never be able to move by own strength again. The fact that he'd damn well make sure she _would_ didn't soothe him much. He was still putting a friend though torment that she didn't have to suffer. It was infuriating. He wanted to punch something, to rip it apart, just to calm himself down.

Whoever had attacked the school would be a good start. He felt his mouth curl into a snarl at the thought. When he found them, he'd break them. The Servant would have to die, anything else was too risky, but the Master...

That wouldn't be quick.

"Shirou." A small hand bopped lightly against his head, yanking him from his thoughts. "…Your sandwich is getting cold. Eat."

He turned to look at Assassin, who was staring up at him with a firm expression. Despite the events of the afternoon, she'd dragged him off to get something to eat, though it was clear that her intentions had changed from simply devouring everything she could. She'd spent less time eating than she had trying to force him to do the same, obvious attempting to distract him from mulling over Yukika. He appreciated the gesture, but he really didn't feel like eating anything.

Assassin didn't seem willing to take that for answer and alternated between prodding and meaningful glances towards his sandwich until he gave in. They ate in silence for a time, when Assassin suddenly froze. The gesture was familiar by now, like watching a hunting dog sniff the air. He knew what had happened even before she spoke. "Shirou, there is a Servant in the area."

His mind began race. This was a crowded area. While both Rin and himself suspected that it was manipulation of the ley lines that was responsible for the attacks, a Noble Phantasm was still a possibility. An area filled to the brim with people like this was a tempting target.

On the other hand, it could be a more peaceable visitor. It wasn't impossible that the new Servant was Rider or Saber, in which case Rin or Ilya would likely be nearby. He found himself hoping that it was Rider. Rin might have found something out by now. "Where are they?"

"…About two hundred and fifty meters away." She said. He eyes closed as she concentrated "I cannot tell the direction yet."

He waited in silence. If he was honest, he'd wanted something like this. Something to distract him from the dark thoughts that threatened to wash over him. Adrenaline was already pumping through his body, the words of his Aria poised on his lips.

"One hundred meters." The quiet voice from beside him said. "To the west."

He glanced in that direction out of the corner of his eye, but saw nothing extraordinary. Not surprising thought It wasn't like a Servant would announce themselves with fanfare. He paused. Well, his brother would but he was an exception among exceptions, even among Servants.

"Fifty meters." Assassin murmured. "On a higher elevation…!"

The white haired Servant's gaze shot up, and he followed her eyes. There, waving cheerily, was a familiar red-haired form. He sighed, the tension leaving his body and lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

The Servant sauntered down the steps casually. He couldn't help but notice the attention she was drawing. It wasn't surprising of course. Rider was beautiful by any standards and her flowing red-hair, so unusual in Japan, lent her an exotic air. Combined with her incredibly flamboyant choice of clothing, she was as eye-catching as it was possible to be. Frankly, he was halfway surprised that there wasn't a gaggle of young men trying to hit on her.

"Well hello there, Shirou-kun! And you too, Assassin." Rider greeted them airily. "Fancy meeting you two here."

"It was certainly a surprise." Shirou agreed, gesturing for her to sit down. "Where's Rin?"

"Oh, she's just upstairs. Grabbing something to drink." The Heroic Spirit crossed her legs as she sat. "In fact, I think that's her now."

She raised her hand once again and waved frantically. Turning in his seat, Shirou looked over in the direction of Rider's signal. Coming down the same flight of stairs that Rider had taken, Rin was approaching their table at a rapid pace.

"Shirou!" She exclaimed, stopping as she reached them. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Just taking a walk to clear my head. You?"

"Something similar." She replied, taking a seat. "I was just about to start heading to the church though."

Shirou blinked in surprise. "Is it that late already?" He gave his watch a glance. Four twenty. The church was at least a half hour away, even if you jogged. He'd lost track of time completely.

Rin opened her mouth, no doubt to remonstrate on him on his apparent tardiness, then paused. "Shirou… Are you alright? You look a little tired."

Wonderful. Apparently even Rin had noticed that he was wallowing in angst. He shook his head. Enough. If he had to feel miserable, he could at least channel it into something constructive. Like hunting down the miserable bastard behind it and wringing his neck.

There. He felt better already.

"I'm fine." He replied, sitting up a little straighter. "Just thinking. More importantly, I don't suppose that you've found anything?"

Rin gave him an uncertain look, obviously doubting how easily he was dismissing her concerns. Eventually though, she spoke up. While this place was hardly as safe as the church, the thrum of the conversation around them easily hid anything they said from outside ears. "It's as we thought. They're hiding out in Ryuudouji Temple. There's some impressive bounded fields covering it and combined with the natural spiritual barrier, it's a fortress. I'd say that it's Casters work."

Shirou nodded, mulling over the information. Ryuudouji was the largest meeting point of ley lines in the entire area, so they had suspected that at least one Servant would make their home there. And Caster made sense. The only other options were Berserker or Archer, who typically weren't powerful magic users. "Alright then, that's one. But the sewers are pretty much empty. I couldn't find so much as a trace of magecraft, let alone a Servant."

Rin looked thoughtful for a few moments, then shrugged. "Well, that's fine. It's probably best to focus on one thing at a time. At least we know that there's no surprises waiting for us down there."

"And the thing to focus on right now," Rider said, breaking into the conversation. "Is how and when we're going to attack the place."

"…Tonight." Shirou turned at the sound of Assassin's voice, giving the Servant a surprised look. It was fairly unusual for her to come into a conversation without prompting. "… There's no reason not to strike."

"Ooh." Rider smirked at Assassin. "You read my mind. I'm all for doing this as soon as possible too. I've been getting a little bored lately."

"That goes for me as well. I am a magus of Tohsaka. I won't leave them be to do as they wish on my land." Rin confirmed. She turned to face him, face curious. "Shirou?"

He didn't answer for a second, closing his eyes in thought. He could think of a few reasons to leave them alone for a while. They could spend the time investigating their capabilities, or perhaps try and goad another Master into assaulting them first. While a flat out assault here and now, before they had a chance to gather too much energy, was tactically viable, using them as method of cutting down on the competition would be a better strategic move.

But honestly, he couldn't give a damn about strategy right now. The growing anger within demanded release. He wanted to rip those responsible for the attack apart, show them exactly what happened to those who hurt his friends. Make them beg for forgiveness, beg to die, beg for mercy he wouldn't grant. Just the thought soothed him.

"Yeah." His eyes opened as he spoke. "Tonight sounds good."

-End-


	11. Rise

**A/N: New chapter!**

* * *

><p>The room was dark, a single candle placed in the centre of the floor the only source of light. Constantin preferred it that way. The contrast of the darkness pressing in all around against the single, small flame was aesthetically pleasing. Perhaps even calming.<p>

Seated before it, legs crossed and eyes closed, his mind began to wander over the events of last night.

Embarrassing.

Pathetic.

Demeaning.

All words that could be applied to his… 'battle' with Ilyasviel von Einzbern. At the thought of the pale girl, he rubbed his throat unconsciously, feeling the ragged scar that stretched from his chin to his collarbone. A memento from her father.

Twenty three years ago, Emiya Kiritsugu had been at the height of his infamy. The assassin of magi, given the title of 'Magus Killer' out of respect, disgust and fear. Whole experiments had been stopped by the mere suggestion that he might be in the area. His wrath against those who used others as fodder for their experiments had been legendary. He had even killed his own father over such an event. What chance did any other magus have of mercy in the face of a man like that?

Twenty three years ago, Emiya Kiritsugu had killed his brother.

The memory hurt more than it should have. For magi, who were supposed to be detached from shallow bonds such as blood, he and his brother Petr had been quite close. Even in his youth, he hadn't complained when his brother had been given the position of heir. He hadn't wanted it anyway. It gave too much responsibility. As the second, lesser child he'd been given much more freedom than his brother. While his brother had aspired to the heights of magic, he'd been content to sit in his shadow.

And then Petr had been killed.

He'd been experimenting in concealed bounded fields, the speciality of the Escherdt family. To test these, intelligent subjects had been needed, so as to show whether the concealment was functioning correctly. The inhabitants of the local town had more than sufficed. But the sudden rush of disappearances also drew the attention of Emiya Kiritsugu. The result had been the same as whenever the attention of the Magus Killer was gained. Except for one vital difference.

Petr's body had been burnt to ash, along with almost all of the magic crest of the Escherdt family. In one fell swoop they'd been reduced to little more than a first or second-generation family of magi. The backlash against him had been terrible. Suddenly he was the heir of the family, the first link in a brand new chain. The freedom he'd taken for granted was stripped from him and he was all but forced into the workshops and libraries to futilely struggle to regain more than two hundred years worth of magical knowledge in a single generation.

He'd longed for revenge. To kill the man who'd slain his brother and forced him into a life he didn't desire. But as if fate was mocking him, Kiritsugu had shortly after come under the protection of the Einzbern family, putting the Magus Killer well beyond his reach. And so for years he'd been left to stew in bitterness, sitting quietly among the libraries of his family.

And then the Fourth Grail War had come.

For a time, no-one had been sure who had won the War, nor even who had survived. Then news began to trickle out. The prodigal magus, Waver Velvet had returned, with new confidence and power, bearing news of the death of his old Master, Lord El-Melloi and his fiancé. The Tohsaka family had likewise suffered the loss of their family head, Tohsaka Tokiomi. Of the other Masters little was known.

And then came something no-one had expected. To the world at large, the Einzbern had declared the removal of Emiya Kiritsugu from their household. That had caused quite a stir. There'd been more than one family with a grudge against the magus after all. When he was sighted on the Russian mainland, the hunt had been on.

Constantin had joined more than willingly, dismissing his family's complaints with all the influence he'd garnered over the years. At last, he'd thought, he could avenge his brother. He could put his grudge to rest. He could look Emiya Kiritsugu in the eye as he died, and spit on the corpse.

It had been a disaster.

If Emiya Kiritsugu had been considered merciless before, he'd been as a demon then. He'd burned down entire sections of forest, levelled buildings as a distraction, left the corpses of his enemies rotting behind him as warnings. Constanin hadn't cared. Even when others began to turn back, fear and caution overcoming their blood thirst, he'd persevered.

And to reward him for his efforts, Kiritsugu had carved out his throat with a jagged branch. A _branch_. It had been humiliating.

He'd used every ounce of power at his disposal to live, cauterising the wound shut and using all the limited healing magics he knew and even then he'd been lucky. Kiritsugu had left without a second glance to spare at the body he presumed dead or dying, stumbling forward like a man possessed. Even so, Constantin hadn't possessed the energy to move.

And so he'd lain in the snow, his body growing colder and colder as time passed. Until a girl from a local village out for a walk, or to pick flowers, or to search for something, or something equally trivial, had found him. She'd taken him back to the village and called a doctor. Over the course of the next few weeks he'd recovered, bit by bit, clawing his way back to health and another chance at revenge.

By the time he had completely recovered Emiya Kiritsugu was dead, and he was left with grudges that could not be fulfilled.

Until now. Until he had been granted the title of Master by the Holy Grail, allowing him to fight, to punish, the last remaining family of Emiya Kiritsugu on equal terms.

And yet once more he'd been dismissed, thrown aside as nothing more than a hindrance, a bump in the road.

With a growl of frustration, he began to scratch deeper into the scar, nails cutting the flesh until fresh blood began to flow. He'd refused to have to wound healed, despite the difficulties it created in his speech. It was a mark of lessons learnt, lessons that he'd forgotten in his mad rush to battle Ilyasviel. The pain he caused himself now was to reinforce them.

Caution. Patience. Preparation. Words that he'd lived by for nearly a decade, only to casually throw away.

_Well, no more_. He thought angrily. _I will not be brushed aside again!_

Sitting there, the single candle before him, he closed his eyes and let darkness envelop him.

* * *

><p>After agreeing to meet up at the temple footsteps at nine 'o clock, Shirou and Rin had headed back to their respective houses to prepare whatever they thought they might need for the attack. He'd headed back to the church at a brisk pace and made his way down into the cellars, opening an innocuous looking wardrobe. And then opening the wooden back, to reveal a fairly respectable armoury of assorted weaponry.<p>

Shirou examined the varied collection of armaments in front of him with a practiced eye. Most of it wasn't of much interest to him, as he simply hadn't had the time to actually practice their usage. Weapons weren't his speciality to begin with, as his primary focus was on magecraft and unarmed combat. But he was assaulting the stronghold of a Servant and he'd need any edge he could get his hands on.

Eventually though, he shook his head in dismay. Everything in the hidden storage cupboard that contained the conventional weapons of the household was essentially useless against Servants. While his claws, when reinforced, would technically be capable of damaging Servants, the idea of going head-to-head with an being like a Heroic Spirit wasn't an appealing one.

Next to him, Assassin seemed to have reached a similar conclusion as to the usefulness of the equipment, replacing a bandolier of throwing knives on their shelf. "…Shirou, none of these will work against a Servant."

"I know." He said, closing the cupboard up again and stepping out of the wardrobe it was concealed in, brushing aside a long priest's coat as he did so. "But I've got something else in mind."

If the conventional weapons were useless, he'd just have to use the _unconventional_ weapons.

Moving deeper into the small labyrinth below the church, he eventually came to a wood panel. Nothing about it signalled it as being different from those surrounding it and indeed, it wasn't. Except for the fact that behind it there was a fairly hefty armoury of sanctified items.

His father hadn't been so eager to train him in the use of most of them, calling them distractions that he didn't need. Indeed, he'd only agreed to teach him how to use any of the holy artefacts after Shirou had demonstrated that his magecraft had advanced far enough.

He'd done that by warping a hole through the three inches of solid oak that separated him from them in the first place. A feat that he was repeating right now.

He ducked slightly as he entered the alcove, looking down at the collection of divine artefacts. Or one group in particular.

The Black Keys were the symbolic weapons of the Executors of the Church, a type of conceptual weapon that excelled in damaging spiritual phenomena. While they weren't quite powerful enough to destroy Servants, they were still one the few weapons that could actually damage a Heroic Spirit. That made them worth bringing along. The only weapons more dangerous in the entire household were those contained in Gilgamesh's armoury. And Gilgamesh wasn't good at sharing. Not that he could even ask; his brother had pulled the same vanishing trick that his father had been so fond of lately.

The dozen long blades sat there, exuding a quiet sense of menace. Casually, he picked one up and fitted it between his fingers. A flick of his wrist and the weapons was embedded very nearly up to the hilt in the floor.

He grinned in childlike glee. It looked like his father had maintained them perfectly. Wonderful.

He glanced across the remaining inventory. Rosary beads, crucifixes and other items he could quite recognize or see the use of. All useless to him. He lacked the faith required to make such items function in their true capacity. While he was _technically_ Christian, that was exactly the problem. Technically didn't cut it, not when dealing with holy artefacts. The Black Keys were an exception. Even someone with his rather lacklustre faith could use them.

Suddenly, he frowned. Folded up in a neat pile was a black cloth that he'd never seen before in the armoury. Picking it up, it opened into a long black coat, similar to the one he'd brushed aside just five minutes ago. A piece of card tumbled to the ground as it opened and he quickly stooped to catch it. The side closest to him was blank, so he flicked it over.

_Shirou. For when faith is not armour enough._

_Also, I've no doubt that I didn't give you permission to come in here, so make sure that everything you don't take is in it's proper place before you leave._

_Your father._

He blinked in surprise and gave the coat an examination. Now that he actually looked at it, it was shorter than his father's. Almost a perfect fit for him. He gave an amused snort. It looked like Kotomine Kirei knew him better than he'd thought.

Slipping on the coat, he twisted experimentally. It was surprisingly light, and expertly tailored. His movement didn't seem to be restricted at all. It was also damn stylish, which was always a plus.

"How do I look?" He asked, turning to face Assassin.

She looked him up and down for a moment, then nodded. "Good."

He gave the cloth a quick rub, then grinned again, If his suspicions were correct then this coat was a good deal tougher than it appeared. Anyone trying to bring him down with small arms fire, magical or mundane, would be in for a surprise. Not much use against a Servant, but then not much was. Besides, he was aiming for the Master. He had a grudge to bring to bear on that bastard.

He felt the childish excitement at the new equipment dwindle as his thoughts turned back to the events of the day. Another surge of guilt rushed through him, but he quashed it with a renewed anger. He'd already been through this a dozen times in his thoughts yet it seemed that no matter how he rationalised it, his mind just wouldn't leave him alone about it.

He couldn't help Yukika yet, but he could avenge her.

That was all.

* * *

><p>Assassin was angry. A lifetimes practice of dissembling allowed her to hide that from the world, yet it didn't change the terrible wrath snaking through her mind.<p>

_Someone had hurt Shirou._

She didn't particularly like Yukika. She was closer to Shirou than Assassin was comfortable with. But her pain had obviously troubled Shirou, made him sad. Unhappy.

So someone was going to suffer. Starting with Caster and ending with… well, ending whenever Shirou was happy again.

She watched Shirou cook from her perch on the dining room chair with steady eyes. He was trying to hide it, but it was obvious that he was still depressed. She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. Anything that hurt him had to be destroyed. The idea of assaulting the temple tonight, of slaughtering the Servant and Master inside, was an appealing one. Wouldn't killing Caster be one more proof to Shirou of how important he was to her?

And then there were the possible opportunities that the assault would provide.

She'd been frustrated when Rin had first offered the partnership to Shirou, but it hadn't taken her long to see the advantages inherent in the alliance. Working beside Rin would provide innumerable chances to strike when Shirou's attention was elsewhere. Before Rin could betray Shirou, she would kill her. It was simple. The only problem was Rider.

She frowned at the thought of the crimson haired Servant. She couldn't help but feel that under the affable, carefree persona that the Heroic Spirit presented to the world, there was an all too perceptive mind. It was worrying. More than that, Rider just plain annoyed her. She reminded her of the whores and nightwalkers who'd made their living selling their flesh in the alleys and streets of the city she'd been born in. That same lack of concern for consequences, that same seductive air.

Involuntarily, her hand clenched her dagger. Old grudges began to rise within and despite her attempts to force them down, spite began to roil through her veins once more…

"Assassin, dinner's ready!"

The sound of Shirou's voice snapped her out of her thoughts instantly. She marvelled at that. Just his voice alone seemed enough to set her free of her past.

To have someone like that forever…

Wasn't that worth any price?

* * *

><p>Seated on bottom of the steps leading up to the temple, Rin shivered in the cold night air. Next to her Rider stood as a physical presence, seemingly unconcerned with the steadily lowering temperature. Given that she was wearing little more than that halfway opened coat, Rin could only attribute this to her spiritual nature.<p>

"He's late." She ground out between teeth that chattered continually, despite her attempts to restrain them. She'd cast a small spell to keep herself warm, but it appeared that she'd somewhat underestimated the depth of the chill. It was definitely unusually cold for this time of year.

"No, Master." Rider sighed. "We're early. Like I said we'd be."

Rin shot the Heroic Spirit a glare. Weren't Servants supposed to be loyal, dedicated warriors? Not taking every chance they got to take a dig at their Masters? At the very least she'd been hoping for a Servant with some manners.

"Ah!" Rider said cheerily from next to her. "There you go, Master. He's right on time, unlike some early birds I could mention."

Biting down her retort to that, she turned to shoot a bile filled comment at Shirou instead only to freeze.

Shirou looked… different. Gone were the t-shirt and jeans he wore practically everywhere out of school, replaced by a hauntingly familiar coat. His eyes seemed slightly dull, as if deep in thought, and his face was stoic. For a brief moment, he looked like some kind of wraith walking among the living.

For a brief moment, he truly looked like his father.

She shook her head violently, clearing the vision from her head. Opening her eyes, Shirou was once again in front of her, looking a little tired and wearing clothes that didn't suit him, but still… still _Shirou_.

"Oh?" He asked, giving her a curious look. "You're already here? Am I late?"

"Of course you are!" She ground out, giving an indignant huff. "I wouldn't have been-"

"You're fine, Shirou-kun." Rider interrupted, cutting across her tirade. "Rin's just cold and irritable."

"Is that it?" He replied, giving her a glance. He stretched out a hand and laid his palm against her cheek. She blushed slightly at the contact, but didn't pull away.

"W-what are you doin-"

"Analysis start."

Almost instantly, a rush of heat began to burn it's way through her chilled muscles, eventually settling down into a pleasant warmth. She restrained her circuits instinctive attempt to block the foreign prana. Shirou gave her a once over, then nodded in satisfaction.

"Feeling better?"

"Y-yeah." She said, a little breathlessly. As always, it seemed Shirou was using his straightforward approach to problem solving, regardless of minor things like personal space. He looked at her for a moment longer.

"By the way Rin, aren't you putting on a little too much weight around your hips?"

She stared at him momentarily. There was no way he'd be stupid enough to actually say that, right? Her ears had just been deceiving her, surely? Behind her, Rider snickered.

"You really should watch out for that." Shirou continued, voice earnest and calm. "I can get rid of it if you want, but overeating is a habit that you really shouldn't get into…"

Rider doubled over. Rin fought the urge to kick her.

"Also-" Rin held up a shaking hand to stop him in his tracks.

"Shirou. Just… just stop there. For your own good." Shirou's honesty, no matter how well intentioned, hit like a truck. He paused at that, then nodded.

"I guess you're right." He looked up the stairs. After a few hundred feet the shadows of the night swallowed up the steps from sight, making it seem as if a wall of darkness was spread across their path. "We've got more important things to worry about."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Rider whispered next to Rin's ear, her words audible only to her Master. "A girl's weight is pretty big issue, isn't that right? My chubby little Master?"

Very purposefully, Rin ignored that, facing Shirou. "Where's Assassin?"

Shirou opened his mouth to reply but before he could so much as say a single word, the white-haired Servant appeared, taking on her physical form right next to him. She gave Rin and Rider a nod of acknowledgment but said nothing, seemingly content standing silently by Shirou's side.

Rin eyed the girl with some concern. If Rider was right, then the white-haired Servant was after her life. If that were true, then the Heroic Spirit gave no signs of it. Her face was expressionless and reserved. For a second, she considered telling Shirou about Rider's suspicion here and now and confronting the issue head on. The thought of attacking a Servant with one of own allies looking to kill her wasn't a pleasant one.

But even if she brought it up, would he believe her based on little more than Rider's testimony? Just because the issue was closer to hand, it didn't mean the circumstances had changed. Eventually, she bit her tongue. It grated, but she'd have leave it up to Rider, just as the Servant had suggested.

The moment passed. It left a feeling that Rin had made a decision, or missed a chance, or something.

"We should head up now." Shirou said quietly, turning and beginning the long walk up the mountain road.

Moving up beside him, Rin remained silent as they ascended. Shirou felt… odd. While that comment about her weight had been characteristic of him, he was strangely silent and withdrawn for the most part. He'd been in a similar mood when they'd met at the shopping mall.

_Just tired, my perfectly proportioned backside_. She thought, glancing at his face from the corner of her eye. His gaze was focused on the path ahead and his face expressionless. That was the most chilling part. Shirou's face had always been open, whether he was giving a cheerful grin or grouching about her teasing him. Stoicism just didn't suit him.

And then there was that damn coat. The thing was a bloody copy of Kirei's down to the last thread. The fact that it looked perfectly natural on him just made it worse.

Tempting as it was to confront him on whatever was on his mind, this wasn't the time. After they'd finished with Caster though, she'd give him an earful about hiding things from her. Not that she was worried about him or anything like. It was just that they were allies after all. Transparency was essential for efficient cooperation.

As they neared the summit, the sheer strength of the bounded fields that had been constructed around the ancient temple became even more apparent than it had been through the familiar's eyes. Countless barriers overlapped one another, creating a thrum of power that could be felt even without touching the constructs. Next to her, Rider gave a low whistle.

"You really weren't kidding about this place being a fort, were you?" She raised an eyebrow, apparently impressed. "Even I can feel that."

"Can you get in undetected, Assassin?" Shirou asked, staring at large stone gate little more than a hundred meters ahead.

The white haired Servant closed her eyes in thought momentarily, then shook her head. "…I can hide my presence from Caster, but crossing the boundary fields will alert them to the presence of an intruder."

"Is that so?" Shirou murmured quietly. After a second he gave a small, vicious smile. "Then let's give you a smokescreen."

He closed his eyes and gave the order.

* * *

><p>Caster's head shot up as the feeling of nearly a dozen presences forcing themselves across her boundary burst into her senses. Among them, most horrifyingly, was a Servant. For a brief moment, the warning sounds of the boundary field blurred together in her mind like a terrible cacophony.<p>

She threw herself to her feet, just as the sliding door of the room slammed open, revealing her Master.

"Who is it?" His voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke, his composure seemingly restored.

"Enemies, Master." She replied, hurrying into the orchard. "Almost a dozen and with a Servant among them."

"That many?" He scratched his neck thoughtfully. "Not Einzbern then. She would have come with no more than her Servant."

"You should hide yourself, Master." She continued, speaking over him. While actively trying to protect him grated on her sensibilities, the fact remained that without a Master her powers would be greatly weakened. She wouldn't be able to escape this battle, let alone triumph. And if he was wrong and it was the Einzbern girl, if it was Saber…

She'd need every advantage she could get her hands on.

He nodded in affirmation and retreated into the depths of the temple even as she took to the air, robes fluttering behind her.

Almost instantly she was forced to raise a barrier as a hail of projectiles slammed into the field with enough force to shatter stone. She glared through the glowing shield at her enemy. The red-haired Servant was levelling a pair of pistols her way, firing them with reckless abandon. Despite that, she were horrifyingly accurate with not so much as a single shot not striking off of Caster's barrier. It was a vicious fusillade, one that could have levelled a house through sustained fire.

She smirked. Compared to the tempest Saber had created, this was hardly worth talking about. She spoke the Divine Words and orbs of light began to form around her, each and every one containing a force that was far beyond the capabilities of modern magi. With a single gesture, they were released, lancing forward like harbingers of destruction.

Even as the bolts were launched, she noticed the two forms running for the temple, faster than a normal human could ever hope to move but not at anything like the speed of a Servant. Magi then. Her smirk grew wider. There was a good chance that at least one of them was the Master of the Servant that opposed her. If that were so, then killing them would create a speedy resolution indeed.

* * *

><p>Shirou sprinted towards the relative cover of the temple, the loud crack of Rider's guns hurrying his pace. He wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to keep up such a sustained attack given that her pistols appeared to be flintlocks, weapons that weren't known for their large ammo capacity. Then again, expecting anything a Servant did to be physically possible was a futile endeavour in and of itself.<p>

A hail of energy shot past him, detonating against the ground more than a dozen metres behind him. Nevertheless, the shockwave of the explosion caused him to stumble. He barely caught himself before falling and quickly glanced around. Rin had managed to hold herself up and was already getting her pace back. And Rider had somehow managed to dodge the storm of light, already responding with a renewed attack. The courtyard itself was rapidly becoming little more than rubble, the bolts of power having carved craters deep into the earth.

The plan was simple. Shirou and Rin would rush for the temple to confront the Master (or at least get cover from Caster), while Rider distracted Caster. That would also allow Assassin to close in on the opposing Servant, hopefully allowing for a quick kill. In the best case scenario, Rider and Assassin would quickly finish Caster and move in to support them, turning the battle against the enemy Master into a one-sided slaughter.

He wasn't optimistic enough to hope for the best case scenario though. And frankly, that was fine. He wanted to do this with his own hands. To see the life fade from the man behind it all.

Suddenly, his gaze shot up. Another wave of those monstrously powerful spells that Caster seemed to be able to produce at an ungodly rate approached. With a sinking feeling he realised something horrible.

They were aimed at him.

_Oh, this is gonna suck._

He braced himself to leap aside, hoping to carry himself far enough beyond the epicentre of the explosion to at least survive, when a lance of light shot past him. It expanded into a crackling field of power, colliding with the oncoming hail. The explosion shook the ground and the flare of light shone like a new sun, but more prepared this time he carried on without so much a stumble. He grinned as he burst through the smoke created by the clash of magic. _Nice save, Rin._

He'd long known how powerful Rin's jewels were, but the fact that they could match the incantations of the Servant Caster was impressive by any standard. While his own magecraft was versatile, it lacked anything with that sort of direct power. Then again, so did almost any form of magecraft he'd ever heard of. The Tohsaka Jewelcraft was said to be able to match the lost magecraft of the Age of The Gods and given what he'd just seen, he was feeling willing to give that rumour the benefit of the doubt.

The entrance to the main building of the temple was close now and he leapt forward with one last burst of speed to carry him to relative safety.

* * *

><p>Caster gave a dissatisfied click of the tongue as the pair vanished into the shadows of the Temple, even as she launched another storm of bolts at the pistol wielding Heroic Spirit. Given that she didn't know the location of her Master, randomly bombarding the place had too much risk of hitting the wrong target. Well, she wouldn't shed any tears if her Master were to get hit, but it would cause her too many problems.<p>

That aside, she was impressed. That female magus had managed to block one of her spells. Through the use of a reagent certainly but even that was still more than she'd expected from the magi of this era. Against a magi like that, her Master stood no chance in a fair fight. She smirked at that thought.

It was a shame the girl wouldn't get one.

Another hail of bullets smacked off her barrier, forcing her to renew the energy retaining it once more. The red-haired Servant opposing her was proving to be an annoyance. She always seemed to just avoid the worst of her spells, slipping through them by some strange quirk of fate. And her attacks never let up. If she hadn't been bolstered by the life force of hundreds of the townspeople, she might have been worried about running out of prana before she finished the Servant off.

As it was, she merely had to keep this up until her enemies luck ran out and then finish the two inside the temple, if her Master hadn't done so already…

A horrible realisation struck her. That was only three people. Almost a dozen presences had forced their way into the temple grounds. So where were they?

No sooner had the thought struck her than a mist descended.

Her vision went white and in panic she struck upwards, her spell of flight propelling her towards the open sky. It never came. No matter how far she sped, it felt like she barely moved at all with nought but mist surrounding her.

It took only a moment of thought for her to deduce the cause. This was a bounded field, one very nearly on the same level as a reality marble. Even now she could feel the fog sapping her strength, stealing the speed and strength from her movements. Her eyes narrowed at that. Magecraft? Someone was trying to attack her with magecraft? Did they have no idea who they were dealing with?

Her senses reached out, feeling the connections that ran through the field. It was powerful, stronger even than the fields that surrounded her temple. A Noble Phantasm then. Normally beyond even her ability to dispel. But this was her temple, the area that favoured her more than any other, that empowered and fed her. As long as she was in this place, even a simulation of True Magic was not beyond her.

She screamed out the Divine Words, the sheer power of the incantation causing the air around her to vibrate. Like a bomb had detonated, the fog cleared, blown away by the force emanating from her. As if the fog had been shielding it from detection, the presence of a new Servant appeared. Caster's head whipped round.

The new intruder was small, short white hair framing her face. Standing more than thirty feet away, she seemed like a doll. There was no mistaking the look of shock on her face though. Or the readied dagger clasped in her hand. Caster raised a hand, a ball of light forming in front of her fingers. She never got the chance to release it.

Almost instantly, the girl flipped the knife round in her hand, hurling it at the magus with blistering speed. Abandoning her attack, Caster raised a barrier into place, even as the hurled projectile struck. The half-formed shield strained for a fraction of a second against the dagger, before simply collapsing. It was still enough though, diverting the weapons path from the centre of her chest to slashing through the flesh of her shoulder.

Caster grit her teeth in pain, but launched herself into the now unobstructed sky to gain distance from both of the Servants on the ground. Her barrier cracked as more bullets crashed into it as she rose, higher and higher. The wound on her shoulder throbbed as the air pressed against it.

Abruptly, she turned in mid-air, spinning to face her enemies still on the ground. Behind her, orbs of light began to spring into existence once more. Her cloak spread out behind her and from within its gloom yet more appeared, like stars bursting into life in the night sky.

With a vicious gesture of her hand, the light fell to earth.

* * *

><p>Shirou let out the breath he'd been holding as he reached the shelter of the temple. The corridor he'd found himself in was almost pitch black dark, with not so much as a single light to guide their footsteps.<p>

"We should hurry up." Rin said firmly, stepping in front of him. "The more we waste time, the longer Assassin and Rider have to deal with that witch out there."

He nodded in agreement, moving to follow her as she stepped into the temple.

The world exploded.

A glaring light pierced his eyes, even as a sudden detonation lifted him off his feet and threw him against the stone wall of the temple. The collision forced the air out his lungs, even the thick coat surrounding him dulling it only slightly. For a moment he lay crumpled against the wall, his mind too dazed to even comprehend exactly what had happened.

Slowly he pulled himself up, staring around blearily.

"What was that?" He croaked out, rubbing the back of his head. No answer came. "Rin?"

His heart nearly stopped when he saw the prone figure lying a dozen feet from him. Wild panic filled his mind. "Rin!"

He ran towards to her body, kneeling down next to it. He didn't touch her though. For all he knew, her current curled up position could be all that stopped one of her ribs from digging into something vital. "Analysis start."

He gritted his teeth as he took in the full extent of the damage. The flames of the explosion itself had done comparatively little damage, with only minor burns on her arms and face. He could fix those in little more than a second. Far more worrying was the internal damage. Her lungs had quite literally been smashed into her chest wall, causing numerous pulmonary contusions. Her right shoulder was cracked like a broken egg shell from where she'd presumably struck the wall and there were more than a few small fractures in her ribs.

Luckily, she'd avoided any major head trauma. She must have blacked out from shock or pain rather than a fractured skull, which was a relief. Treating a head injury rarely turned out perfectly and operating on his childhood friend was something he wanted to avoid. Still, healing was still needed. And with more care than normal. Working on another's body was intrinsically more difficult than his own, especially if they were a magus.

"To all creatures of the earth, life is given as a gift." He recited, the words of the Aria rolling off of his lips. The pulmonary contusions were the most dangerous wounds. Broken bones would heal in time, but fluid building up in the lungs was an immediate concern. "A gift most precious, to be held and guarded by a fortress of bone and flesh."

Repairing the capillaries within her lungs, he moved onto her shoulder. The bone there was little more than shards. Without magical healing or some fairly skilled surgery, it'd probably never heal fully. Fortunately, he was more than capable of providing the former.

A fluttering of Rin's eyes cheered him no end. He'd been worried that he'd have to force her awake. "Have a nice nap, Sleeping Beauty?"

"…It… it could have been better." She moaned, shifting slightly. "Did it get you too?"

He shrugged. "A couple of bruises. Not even worth healing really. You're in a worse state." He continued healing even as he spoke. Talking while heavily injured wasn't the best of ideas, it was better than Rin lapsing back into unconsciousness. "I don't suppose you know what that was?"

She frowned slightly, whether from pain or annoyance he couldn't tell. "A… bounded field, I think. One set to contain a spell for release when… someone crossed it."

"But we should have sensed that." Shirou said, a frown of his own covering his face.

"It was… hidden." Rin stated. "I've heard of it before, but this is my first time seeing a fully concealed field." She coughed, shuddering in pain. "Could've… could've gone better."

"Well, when we get our hands on the bastard who set it up, let's see if we can prise how he did from him." Or from his corpse. Shirou was fine with either.

"Yeah. And speaking of which…" She brought her left arm up, shoving him away gently. "You've gotta get going."

He stared at her.

"I don't bloody well think so." He said firmly. "Your ribs look like someone had a dance on them. I'm not leaving until-"

"Listen to me." Rin growled, cutting across him. "Rider and Assassin are out there fighting Caster right now. The sooner you kill the Master, the sooner we can pack up and leave. And if you waste too much time on me, then we might not all be going home together."

For a moment, a vision of Assassin's corpse lying shattered on the ground flashed across Shirou's mind, like some terrible vision of the future. He clenched his teeth. That was just a possibility. Rider and Assassin could probably take Caster by their own, regardless of whether or not her Master was alive. But that wasn't certain either. He didn't know the full extent of any of the combatants abilities after all. And Rin's injuries weren't fatal, not now that he'd healed the worst of them…

He snarled in frustration. Standing up, he gave Rin an apologetic glance. "I'll be back in ten minutes tops."

"I know it." She said, giving him a pained grin. "Bring me something nice as a souvenir." She paused. "But be careful. I doubt that's the only present that's been left lying around."

"I've got an idea for that." He said grimly.

Behind him, there was movement in the shadows as manifold shapes moved through the door, heeding their master's call.

* * *

><p>Constantin bared his teeth in a triumphant smile as he felt the concealed field trigger. While Emiya Kiritsugu might have destroyed his brother's work on the traps, Constantin hadn't exactly wasted his time as the head of the Escherdt family.<p>

Even if they'd survived the fields activation (which was possible, given that only a limited amount of prana could be forced into the field without breaking the concealment) they wouldn't be in much shape to oppose him. Or get past the other three fields.

Despite that thought, yet another field triggered. He frowned. Caster had said that almost a dozen people had entered the temple grounds. If that was so, then how many had come for him personally? Enough to penetrate his prepared defences?

The second remaining field collapsed. One left.

When it broke, he drew back into the corner of the large, lightless room he'd occupied. Another field was wrapped round it, this one not for attack but for allowing him to sense the location of all who entered. In a dark enviroment, it was a critical advantage. Even a magus with reinforced eyesight wouldn't be able to detect his presence well in almost absolute black.

The final field detonated. He quieted his breathing. From the site of the last hidden trap, it was little more than ten seconds to this room. The door slid open and the group entered. He bit his lip. Four of them. If any of them were magi, he'd have to be careful. The moment he ran magic through his circuits, there was a chance that a skilled magi would sense him.

There was a rapid series of sniffs, as if an animal was scenting the air. How odd for a human to-

A terrible thought sprang to mind. What if his pursuers were not human?

No sooner had the notion sprang to mind than one of the group leapt in his direction, its compatriots behind it.

Throwing caution to the wind, he swept out a hand, screaming out an Aria. "Fires of my nightmare, seek the thief!"

A small ball of flame burst into life on his palm, casting a dull illumination into the room as he lifted his arm to throw it. Even as he did so a small, shadowed form leapt at him. His left hand struck out on reflex, catching it dead centre. Rather than throwing it away though, the thing held fast onto his extremity. What felt like tiny claws dug deep into his flesh. A vivid stinging sensation rose in his forearm, as if a wasp was attacking him. Another pain blossomed on his wrist, the feeling of flesh tearing beneath jagged teeth.

He cast the ball of fire at his feet, setting the floor between himself and the encroaching enemies alight. Whatever this thing on his arm was, he wanted rid of it. To his horror, the presences didn't so much as slow down, leaping through the flames without a moment's hesitation.

In the new light, he could finally see the thing that had attached itself to his hand. He nearly screamed in instinctive fear. It superficially resembled a rat, but one from the nightmares of a madman. Six clawed legs held onto his flesh, even as teeth resembling a shark's tore into his wrist. A scorpion's tail lashed out at his forearm and three beady eyes stared at him.

Blind to the pain, he ripped it from his hand in panic, casting it into the flame. Even as he did so, a vicious pain erupted from his leg. He stared down. He wished he hadn't.

If the rat had been nightmarish then these were simply monstrous. Teeth and fangs where none should be, unnatural hooks and barbs poking out from their flesh. There were only three of them, but he couldn't even tell what animal they'd been originally. An animal that vaguely resembled a cat, or perhaps a small dog, threw itself onto his thigh, dragging itself up his body with it's claws. In the midst of the flames, the rat stirred, pulling its flaming body toward him.

Screaming, he stumbled backwards, trying to pull the abomination from his legs. As he grabbed it's fur a fresh scream of pain ripped from his mouth.

It wasn't fur. It was spines. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny, razor sharp spines.

He fell against the wall and if sensing his weakness the monsters went into a frenzy, tearing and biting and stabbing everything they could. His legs gave out and he collapsed. His hand was already swelling, and a burning sensation was beginning to run up both of his arms. They were poisonous, he realised with a dull horror.

He lifted his right arm up, trying to force the words of an aria from his trembling lips. A thrown blade pinned the offending limb to the wall. He stared at it, uncomprehendingly. Another hurled sword pierced through his left shoulder and the fresh stimulus broke his shock, causing him to release a fresh howl of pain.

A fifth presence entered the room. A long, dark coat. A single readied blade. Cold eyes. The man glanced down at Constanin's left hand, where his command seals had carved themselves onto his skin.

"E..ex..Executor…?" Constanin murmured quietly, his mind already blacking out from pain. In some small part of his mind, he realised the abominations had ceased their attack. It didn't matter. His body was already shredded. Venom ran through his veins freely. He was going to die. The man who so resembled the agents of the Church in front of him was merely proof of that.

"I didn't want you to die so easily." The red-headed man said calmly. "But this will have to do."

The blade swung round.

Constanin Escherdt died.

* * *

><p>Caster felt it. That sudden yank, as if a plug had been pulled out her spine. Her Master, that cruel, foul man, was dead.<p>

At any other time, that would have been enough to make her nearly exultant. Locked in combat with two Servants as she was, only dread filled her mind.

Every spell she cast now merely drained her strength further, dragged her closer to fading from the world. This battle was a lost cause. She had to flee, find a new Master and regain her strength.

She launched one last salvo of light, destroying what remained of the temples courtyard, then turned in mid-air and dove down towards the town.

Her vision went white.

In her panic and already weakening physical state, it took a few seconds to realise what it was. A few seconds too long. The fog bit into her hungrily.

She heard the words whispered in her ear like a curse.

"_Maria_."

A ripping pain tore through her, along with a strange sound. Through the agony, she could hear it, that cruel sound existing both on the edges of perception and ringing in her mind like a bell.

_Ring-a-ring-a-roses…_

She was falling, no power left to sustain her flight.

_A pocket full of posies…_

Why did she hurt so much? She looked down at her body with blurry eyes. Huge incisions had been carved into her flesh, her very organs torn from their place within her body.

_Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!_

The poem rang through her mind, even as the curse tore her body to pieces. She closed her eyes. The ground neared.

_We're all tumbled down…_

* * *

><p>Shirou stared at the body laying in front of him. It occurred to him that this was the first time that he'd killed another human and the first time he'd killed another living thing out of pure hate and spite.<p>

It had been surprisingly easy.

There was no regret, no lingering sense that he'd done something wrong. He was fairly sure that they said you were supposed to feel something like that when you killed. All he felt was a faint sense of satisfaction. He'd avenged Yukika and Rin's injuries, he'd made Assassin and Rider's job easier. The thought made him happy, if anything. He certainly felt better than he had all day.

After a moment, he shrugged. So what if he wasn't reacting like most people did to murder? It wasn't like he'd been a poster boy for normality before this. Dismissing the concerns from his mind, he grabbed the arm of the fallen Master, dragging the body behind him as he left. He'd never had the chance to dissect a dead magus before. If the man was from an established family, there was the possibility he could extract the magic crest from his corpse. Or maybe he could even transfer the command seals out of his body. That would be _fascinating. _

The flames that the magus had created were already dying away, apparently sustained by his prana rather than any conventional source of fuel. That was good. It saved him the trouble of putting it out himself. His familiars trailed obediently behind him as he left. He'd lost three to the traps but of the ones remaining, only the rat had suffered any serious damage. It would require repair. Or maybe he'd simply break it down into spare parts. He'd decide at a later date.

He stepped out into the corridor and his thoughts froze. Vertigo swelled in his brain and visions danced in front of his eyes. He was hot, he was cold, he was in pain, he was comfortable, he was standing in a forest, he was standing in a desert, someone was forcing his head underwater, someone was slitting his throat, he was slitting the throat of another man, he was poisoning someone, he was being poisoned, he was both victim and murderer.

He staggered, but remained standing. Stars and shapes swirled before his eyes. There… was something he had to do, wasn't there? He was supposed to be looking after something. Where was it? Or was it something else? Faces danced in front of his eyes. A girl with white hair, a girl with black hair, a women with red hair. They were important, weren't they? There was something else though. He was supposed to have it when it lost. Where was it? There was a hollow pain in his chest. It was supposed to be there. Where was it?

He stumbled forward, but felt resistance from his right arm. He was holding something heavy. A body. It wasn't important. But it was interesting, so he decided to keep it.

He walked on.

* * *

><p>Assassin landed perfectly, touching on the ground lightly. Maria hummed softly in her hand. She stroked the blade softly. It had done well.<p>

But there was still one target left.

The Mist still flowed around her, her perfect hunting ground. She sensed the desired prey and stalked towards her victim with the grace of a consummate predator.

Within the temple, she found the prone form of Tohsaka Rin. She was unconscious, injuries and the sapping effect of the Mist having forced her from the waking world. Assassin considered her body. As much as would have liked to finish the girl off with her own hands, knife wounds would be too obvious. Shirou might figure something out. No, she'd simply let the Mist finish the girl off. It wouldn't take long, her injuries provided easy weak points for the hungry fog to erode. All she had to do was wait…

"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

She spun round, knives flicking out. Rider stood there, an obnoxious grin on her face and a raised gun in her hand. "Shame about the fog though." A second gun rose to be level with its twin. "I don't suppose you could do something about that?"

Assassin's mind spun. This was impossible. No-one except her could find their way through the Mist. Only those with exceptional instincts could even escape it!

"How did you get here?" She spat out.

Rider raised an eyebrow, then grinned even wider, baring her teeth. "You mean through this fog? Call it luck."

Assassin glared at the buxom Servant, who continued. "More importantly though, I don't suppose you'd drop this pretty little trick of yours? I just don't think that this damp air is good for my Master, you see."

Assassin raised her knife. She'd been planning to simply let Rider fade away after killing Rin, but it looked like she'd have to take a more immediate hand in things. That was fine. Maria could deal with Rider as easily as it had Caster. Rider sighed at her expression.

"All right then. No choice." Her smile vanished. "Golden Wild Hunt!"

A dozen cannons blurred into life behind her, the air rippling around them. Rider glared down at Assassin.

"Now here's the plan. I know you're fast as all hell. And I know you've got some nasty trick up your sleeve, 'cause Caster ain't exactly in one piece anymore. So here're my cards, flat on the table. You'll drop this damn fog, or I'll level this entire building, with Shirou in it." Assassin froze. "And I won't enjoy it, cause I like Shirou. He's an interesting guy. But I'll do it nonetheless, because he's not my Master. Rin is. And I'm not going to let her be killed because of some psychopathic little girl with more issues than the navy has boats! Are we understood?"

There was a silence for a moment. Assassin glared at her. A simple choice then. If she kept the Mist up, Rin would die, but Shirou would likely be hurt, perhaps… perhaps even killed. Her heart seized up at the thought. No… no! Nothing was worth that. Nothing!

She dispelled the field.

Rider smiled again, a little more softly this time. "Good girl. There's hope for you yet." She stepped next to Rin, but kept the cannons present. The threat was obvious. "Now let's just wait patiently for Shirou to get here, shall we? And don't worry," She gave Assassin a wink. "We'll keep this little debacle between ourselves for now."

Assassin said nothing, merely leaning against the wall and staring down the corridor for a glimpse of her Master.

It was barely a minute later when Shirou trudged round the corner, dragging a body behind him. He stopped when he saw them, blinking rapidly. Assassin straightened up, a small smile on her face as she quickly moved towards him.

Shirou collapsed.

Assassin stared at his body, utterly still for a moment, then leapt forward, crying out in near hysterics. "Shirou!"

Rider sighed and ground her face into her palm. She called out after the white-haired Servant. "Just for the record, that had nothing to do with me!"

* * *

><p>She stared at the bloody mess laying in the bush. It resembled nothing so much as a bloody slurry, flecks of bone visible in the crimson liquid. But it was alive. She didn't want to watch it, but she didn't have much choice. Something was forcing her to look, her soul held as if in a vice.<p>

It twisted and turned, growing rapidly. She didn't know what is had been originally, but as the seconds passed, its new form became apparent. First the skeleton formed, then the muscles and veins, building up around the white bone like snakes coiling around a pillar. Finally, the skin grew, blessedly covering the inner workings of the body from her sight.

For a moment, the form lay still. Then its, his, eyes opened. Fierce gold eyes peered out of the sockets. The man stood and stretched under the starlight. His dark skin was covered in red and black spiralling tattoos, almost impossibly complex in their design as they stretched across his entire body.

The man inspected his body for a moment longer, then nodded, apparently satisfied. Clothes formed out of raw prana, wrapping themselves around his waist and a red headband curled around his skull, concealing much of his shaggy, dark hair. Covering the lower part of his body seemed to be his only concession to modesty though, as his torso was left uncovered. He turned slowly, until those savage eyes met hers.

"Hello there, young lady." He said, his voice mocking and cruel. "Fancy a chat?"

His tone made it clear that Caster, what remained of her very existence held in a grip of steel, had no choice in the matter.

-End-


	12. World

**A/N: New Chapter! And apparently Tainted Ideals has a Tv Tropes page now.**

* * *

><p>The ground heaved beneath him like a living being. The air around him was damp and hot but left no moisture plastered on his skin. He could faintly hear a distant throbbing but it was in his head too. The world surrounding him was dark and gloomy but a dim red glow was ever-present.<p>

Shirou blinked.

He was seated on a bench, one like any he could find in a park. It was the only normal thing about the place he found himself in. Which only served to make it all the more unsettling.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been sitting.

"…Where am I?" He immediately regretted allowing the question to slip from his lips. For one thing, it was a horribly clichéd thing to say. For another, it was entirely pointless, given that he was alone.

"You're home.." Came the reply.

Shirou very deliberately did not make any sudden movements or exclamations of shock. Instead, he slowly turned his head to the side, his face calm and composed. There was someone sitting next to him on the bench. It was himself, looking directly at him.

"Hello." Other-Shirou said, his voice cheery.

"Hello." Shirou said in response, his voice slightly wary.

There was silence for a few moments as Shirou watched the other Shirou. He was his twin, identical in every way. Face, hair, build, clothing… It was like staring into a mirror.

The only difference was the vicious smile plastered on his face. That was probably the most worrying part.

"Who are you?" He inquired after a moments thought.

"I'm you." Other-Shirou replied. He paused as if considering his answer. "Or rather, the remains of a part of you. There's not much of me left you see. I've become you." He gestured at himself. "Which is why I look like this, I suppose."

Cryptic and uninformative. How had he expected anything else from what he was increasingly suspecting to be part of some bizarre dream? He sighed. No point in not playing along. It wasn't like he could just wake up by clicking his ruby slippers together. And if it wasn't a dream…

Well, ignoring his mirror-self seemed like a bad idea.

"You said this was my home." Shirou said, meeting his twin's eyes "What did you mean?"

Other-Shirou grinned wider, baring his teeth. "Ah. That was a lie. Or rather, a simplification. This is your home, your birthplace, your mother, your father, your saviour, your curse and your _world_." The grin became a smirk. "You could say that it's quite important to you."

Shirou looked around. Perhaps his eyes had gotten used to the gloom or perhaps the red glow had become brighter, but he could make out more of the landscape. He'd thought earlier that it heaved like a living thing. That was wrong. It wasn't like a living thing; it was one. Tissues swelled and deflated in time to some unnoticeable pulse even as that distant heartbeat echoed in his ears. The only exception to the continual heaving of tissue was the area beneath the bench he was sitting on, which somehow contrived to remain still.

This place's entire existence was a violation of both the laws of nature and common sense. He found that he rather liked it. It felt comforting.

"Is it dangerous here?" He asked as his eyes wandered across the fleshy cavern. As far as he could tell, the cave seemed to stretch on almost endlessly, or at least as far as the eye could see.

Other-Shirou seemed to find that question hugely amusing, bursting into laughter. "This is the one place that you are entirely safe. As long as you are in this world, you will not be permitted to die."

"That's a loaded statement if I've ever heard one." Shirou said, giving an amused snort. "I can think of several situations where you aren't dead, but _really, really want to be_."

"Can you?" Other-Shirou asked, raising an eyebrow. "And how many of those would you apply to yourself?"

Shirou stopped. Well, that was obvious. He'd rather be dead than burning alive for all eternity, wouldn't he? Or being eaten alive forever? He felt a curious hesitation even as he thought that. As terrible as those fates were, he'd still be living, still able to think and feel. It would be a terrible existence but it would still _be_ an existence. The idea of feeling nothing, knowing nothing, fearing nothing and desiring nothing…

It was an unpleasant thought. Even more so than the others. He wondered why he'd never thought of death before.

"I thought so." Other-Shirou said with a hint of smugness as he remained silent. "That was our wish after all. To live, no matter the price. Though the definition of 'live' differed for the two of us. No fate you can imagine was as dire as the one we escaped. No suffering in the world can compare to it. It is the only thing to which death would be truly preferable."

Shirou felt his mouth dry at the copy's words. There was an element of truth in them, one that evoked a sense of forgotten dread as if buried memories were being stirred. He wet his lips with his tongue.

"And that is?"

The grin disappeared from Other-Shirou's face as he met Shirou's eye.

"To return to my place. To once again don a mantle I do not desire." He gestured. "To escape that a contract was carved into this place, a monument to the covenant of two souls and a prison for their fate."

Shirou followed his pointing hand and blinked in shock. Where once there had been only that oppressive, dimly lit darkness, a black tower stood barely a dozen metres away. It drank in the red light, visible by where the pervasive glow was not. It was not made of stone or metal, nor any substance Shirou knew of. Instead, it seemed comprised of shadow and smoke that had solidified into a solid existence. It was dread, terror and hate given form. A construct that both cursed the world and was in turn cursed.

The only part that seemed earthly was the plain wooden door embedded at its bottom. Like the bench he was sitting on, it was so mundane compared to it's surroundings as to appear some kind of sick joke.

"Well," Shirou gave a nervous smile. "That thing couldn't be any more obviously evil if it tried."

Other-Shirou didn't laugh. Shirou hadn't expected him to. The tower swallowed up any attempts at humour, its presence a pall on life itself. The tower was almost the exact opposite of Saber's light, yet it evoked the same dread, the same fear for his very existence. Even now a part of him wanted to run from it, to never look back as he fled.

"Do you want to go to it?" Other-Shirou asked quietly, his voice almost gentle. Shirou started at the question, almost scoffing at it. Go to the thing? He couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less.

Except that a part of him, the same part that wanted to see whether plants grew without light, the part that wanted to join a life or death war for mere curiosity, the part that created monsters from the humblest of animals, desperately wanted to. It wanted to touch the door, to plumb the depths of his own fear. It was an almost irresistible compulsion.

Shirou sniggered, a low, cynical sound of amusement that reverberated throughout the cavern. Pulling himself from the bench, he walked towards the source of his terror.

_I'm absolutely insane_, he thought idly as his footsteps carried him closer and closer to the black tower, the insidious construct that evoked such vivid, instinctive horror. Even as his fear grew, his desire to get closer matched it. _Batshit crazy._

He stopped in front of the door. Five bolts were built into the frame, holding it firmly shut. One of them was cracked, the metal splintered as if someone had taken a hammer to it. But it could still be opened as easily as all the others, little more than pulling a bolt across. Shirou reached out, a smile plastered across his face even as his heart beat faster and faster within his chest.

_But isn't it ever fun?_

His fingers rested gently on the cold metal, then tightened as he pulled it to the side-

A claw smashed into chest, tearing through skin, muscle and bone like paper. The pain didn't even have time to register before a second sliced through his leg, ripping the limb away from the rest of his body like so much dross. He opened his mouth, whether to scream or take air into his ruined lungs he couldn't tell, but even that was cut short as fangs pierced his throat. They punched through the cartilage and tore, reducing his windpipe to broken shreds.

He fell but was given no mercy, the beast, the monster that was attacking him worrying his body like some sick parody of a terrier. Flesh ripped and bones broke as tooth and claw did their bloody work upon his unmoving body. Blood pumped from a dozen gaping wounds, the flow slowing only for lack of the crimson fluid-

Shirou blinked.

He was sitting on a bench, one like any you could find in a park. He turned to his side. Other-Shirou was there, watching him with an amused look.

"What was that?" He asked a little breathlessly.

"That was you. Or rather, a part of you that didn't become you." Other-Shirou shrugged, giving him a cheerful smile as he did so. "So I guess you could say that he's a part of me. Which makes him a part of you by proxy."

"No. Stop." Shirou growled, frustration boiling within. "No more pseudo-cryptic _bullshit_. I was just killed. I want an explanation that doesn't require me to embark on a voyage of self-discovery."

Other-Shirou just shrugged again. "I can't give you one. I'm just some leftover fragments. And so is he. " Other-Shirou gestured at the black tower. For a moment Shirou could have sworn he saw a bestial shape fading into the darkness that surrounded the tower, like some monster made of shadow. "I can tell you nothing that you do not already know, at least on some level. And there are things that you won't allow yourself to remember. Just as there are some locks you will not allow yourself to break out of ignorance."

Shirou opened his mouth to retort, then paused as something struck him.. "Wait… I couldn't have opened that door? Then why did you tell me to go to it?

Other-Shirou raised an eyebrow. "I did no such thing. I merely asked if you wanted to go there; it was you who charged straight in."

"But you knew what would happen!" Shirou said angrily, glaring at his twin. "You could have warned me!"

Other-Shirou shrugged again. "You wouldn't have listened. Curiosity is a hard taskmaster. It accepts no excuses."

Shirou glowered at the mirror of himself, who responded with an angelic smile. "And on that note, it's time for you to leave. The damage was not sufficient to draw you to this place for long, it appears."

Shirou could already feel it, a sensation of vertigo, of the unreality of the world surrounding him. It annoyed him more than anything else. Every word this Other-Shirou spoke served only to create new mysteries. What damage? How had it drawn him to this place? Was this some kind of dream, brought on by a trauma or shock he couldn't remember?

"Then one last question." He said quickly, trying desperately to focus on the world of flesh and the black tower. "Is this real? What's in the tower? And who set that thing, that part of me, to guard the tower?"

Other-Shirou grinned.

"That's three questions."

"Just answer!"

"Yes, for a given value of real. I don't know. And yourself, naturally."

* * *

><p>Rider took in a long draw of her pipe, allowing the thick smoke to fill her lungs. It was as satisfying as ever, and she could feel her body relaxing from the familiar feeling. And relaxation was something she sorely needed.<p>

She glanced in through the window at Kotomine Shirou. After the debacle at the temple, Assassin and herself had had a brief argument as to where to take their Masters. While their own respective territories were no doubt superior places to heal for both of them, splitting up wasn't an option. Another Servant might take advantage of their weakened state, and the first thing either of them would do upon awakening would be to check on how the other was, no matter how bad their condition. They'd eventually chosen the church, mainly because it was the only ostensibly neutral ground in the entire war. Not that meant much. Rider suspected that the idea of 'neutral ground' would last up until a Master decided the church held something he wanted.

Assassin had been a little reluctant to accept Rin's presence but it hadn't taken long to persuade her. A few vague comments about her Master's health and the female magi's abilities at healing had been enough. Though frankly, Rider wasn't too happy about the situation either. Trying to keep an eye on Assassin was an incredibly aggravating chore. Even the fact that Rin had woken up didn't make it any easier. All it would take was a single slip of concentration and Assassin might well decide to gut Rin like a fish.

Especially since Rin hadn't been able to wake Shirou up either. Whatever was afflicting him either wasn't magical in nature or was a kind of magic far removed from any she knew how to recognise. Rin's failure and Shirou's refusal to stir were obviously wearing on the small Servant's nerves. Rider could practically count the minutes until Assassin snapped and tried to kill everyone in the building, just on the off chance it might help break Shirou's slumber.

Rider took another draw, keeping Assassin in her sights. She hoped Shirou woke up soon. Or he'd probably wake up minus a place to stay.

And minus a Servant.

* * *

><p>Shirou blinked in the sudden light he found himself in. Compared to the gloom of that strange, living world, the glare from the lamp above was almost blinding. His head throbbed slightly and disorientation swept through his mind.<p>

Pulling himself up, he was instantly flattened by a blurred shape crashing into him and driving the air from his lungs. Instincts drilled into him by his father kicked in, an arm already raising itself up to gain room for a strike before he recognised his attacker.

"Shirou…Shirou!" Assassin said, relief and joy obvious in her voice as she pressed her face deep into his chest. He lowered his raised fist and patted her on the head instead.

"Assassin, I'm fine, OK? I'm fine…" He whispered gently into her ear, softly rubbing her hair. The small Servant seemed to relax at that, but didn't release him. If anything, she only seemed to tighten the grip her slim arms had around his torso.

He glanced around at the familiar sights of his room as memories of the battle at the temple began to stir. He felt a rush of vicious satisfaction as he remembered the enemy Master's death, the life fading from the man's body. He'd dragged the bastard's corpse through the temple corridors, and then-

He frowned. What _had_ happened to him after that? His memories were blurred, confused. He'd blacked out in the temple and found himself in some strange, dark world. That bizarre place where the land itself pulsed with life and only a lonely tower to marred the landscape. Where a beast and a mirror of himself guarded a single gate…

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the place from his thoughts. It had to have been a dream. After all, wasn't he lying in his own bed with Assassin by his side now?

Despite that, every part of him all but screamed that that place had been real. That it had to be real. That it couldn't _not_ be real. He ground his teeth. There were too many mysteries on his mind right now, too many concerns that he'd left unattended or not been fervent enough in pursuing. And he couldn't help but feel that many of them were connected. He just had to find what joined them.

"Well, well." The teasing voice broke him from his reverie and he looked up to see Rider leaning against the doorframe, pipe in hand. "Look who's finally decided to rejoin the land of the living. Nice dreams?"

"Interesting ones." He replied, giving her a smile as he put his thoughts aside for the moment. "How long was I asleep?"

"Eight hours, give or take." The red-haired Servant replied cheerfully. "You had Rin and Assassin in quite a panic. They even dragged me into guard duty." She gave a sour look, suggesting that this was the most stressful part of the evening for her.

An image of Rin lying on the ground with her face clenched in pain flashed across Shirou's mind. He swallowed. "Rin's OK?"

Rider grinned. "Apart from the lack of sleep and some new stress lines? Just marvellous. She's cooking right now actually." The Servant winked. "I hope you like an early breakfast."

Shirou breathed a sigh of relief. Leaving Rin had grated on him. It had felt too much like abandonment, even if it made sense for everyone involved at the time. He looked down at Assassin. "You're OK too, Assassin?"

The white-haired girl finally looked up, then nodded. "…I wasn't hurt."

Apparently content that she'd said her piece, Assassin buried her face back in his chest. He continued stroking her hair, which the Servant seemed to enjoy.

Rider gave an amused snort. " I like that. Rin and Assassin get concern and affection, and I don't even get a greeting! What if I'm mortally injured? These could be my dying words, Shirou-kun!"

"Judging by your performance, I'd say you're in fine form." Shirou said sardonically, eyeing the still smoking pipe in her hand.

Rider cackled mischievously. "What cruel words!" She laughed again, then paused. "I suppose I better tell Rin you're up. No doubt she wants to savage you about doing something reckless herself."

The redhead left with that, leaving Shirou alone with Assassin. He sighed, leaning back against his bed rest. Assassin shifted slightly as he did so, moving to keep her hold tight. He smiled.

"So you're really fine?" He asked again. Assassin looked up and nodded.

"…Yes. I killed Caster shortly before you left the temple with the body of her Master. I incurred no damage." Assassin said. "We also moved the Master's body into your workshop. Is that acceptable?"

Shirou digested that information. With Caster's death and that of her Master, Yukika had been avenged. It was like a weight had been removed from his shoulder. And no-one had suffered any lasting damage. He'd even secured the body of a magus for experimental use. By any measure a perfect victory. He nodded in satisfaction, then patted her head once again. "Good job. I'll treat you to something nice to eat later."

Assassin smiled at that, that honest, enchanting smile. He found himself suddenly aware of her slight body pressing against his, and fought down a blush.

"..Shirou?" He met her eyes as she spoke. Her stare was open and trusting as she looked up at him and his heart sped up slightly. That seemed to be a recurring thing around the small Servant. He noticed the small scars that marked her face. It was strange, but rather than marring it, they merely lent her a strangely attractive air.

His gaze wandered to her lips. They were small and pale, only a few shades darker than her white skin. After that dark world he'd dreamt of, the impossibly light shade of her skin fascinated him. The temptation to lean down, to touch her, was almost overpowering. He felt Assassin's grip around his torso release and started in surprise when a slim, cool hand touched his cheek gently, the fingertips lying against his flesh. It was a pleasant feeling, even calming.

He wasn't sure how much time passed like that, Assassin gently cradling his face as their eyes remained fixed on each others' faces. A part of him desperately wanted to close the distance, even as another part wanted to simply end the strange tension between them. Indecision warred, even as Assassin's delicate visage leaned upwards. His breath hitched in his throat.

The sound of a clearing throat broke the silence and Shirou's head whipped around. Rider stood in the doorframe, smirking widely. He felt his face flush slightly at her knowing look. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but it looked like Rider had drawn her own conclusions. Conclusions that, he had to admit, were probably quite accurate.

"Am I interrupting something?" She said mischievously. He opened his mouth to assure her otherwise, only for her to continue speaking. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course I'm not. Right, Shirou-kun?"

He looked away awkwardly, which only served to make Rider snicker. On top of him Assassin had turned, glaring at the redheaded Servant with undisguised malice. Rider held up her hands in amused surrender.

"Anyway, I'm just here to relay a message." Rider put both hands down by her sides, glaring heatedly at them in a manner eerily similar to an embarrassed Rin. "I'm serving breakfast. Get here now, or it'll be cold."

Shirou grinned at the act. For someone who'd only known Rin for a few days, Rider could pull off a remarkably good impression.

"So that's my punishment for making her worry, huh?" He mused, pushing the covers back. He'd been stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, but there was a fresh change of clothes piled on the chair. Rin's handiwork, no doubt. He glanced at the Heroic Spirit leaning on the doorframe.

"Could I have a little privacy?" Rider rolled her eyes and turned away.

Assassin moved off him as he pulled himself from the bed. He idly wondered if there was even any point trying to preserve decency in front of her, given that they slept together. That thought quickly led to a vision of Assassin's face, little more than a few inches from his own. He shook his head.

"Sorry Assassin, but could you look away for a second?" The small Servant's face was expressionless as she nodded, turning to face the wall.

He changed quickly, slipping off his clothes and exchanging them for the clean set. Giving himself a quick check over, he nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright. Let's go."

Approaching the kitchen, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

_It's fine_, he thought firmly._ I didn't do anything stupid. Rin hasn't got anything to lecture me on._

The argument calmed him down and he stepped into the room with renewed confidence. He froze at the sight. As promised, breakfast was already served, a mixture of eggs, miso soup and assorted side dishes. That wasn't the terrifying part. Indeed, the food looked as good as any that his childhood friend made. No, the terrifying part was the beatific, saintly smile that Rin was giving him.

Rin didn't smile like that. Rin _never_ smiled like that_._

He fought the urge to run from the room. It appeared that he'd forgotten one key part of her personality: Logic need not apply to her mood.

"'Morning." He said, more cautiously than intended.

"Good morning, Shirou-kun." Rin said lightly. "Why don't you take a seat? There's plenty of food, all of it good for your _health_."

The emphasis on the last word left no doubt as to the current state of her temper. Shirou sighed. "Look, I didn't do anything stupid, ok?"

Rin's smile faded as she glared at him. "And yet I've spent the last few hours worried as to whether you were even going to wake up. What happened?" Her voice grew louder and louder as she spoke.

"I… don't know." He replied after a moment. "I wasn't even hurt! There was no reason for me to black out." He looked at the expression on her face and bowed his head. "I am sorry though. I didn't want to make you worry."

There was silence for a brief moment. Then Rin sighed, shaking her head. "That's unfair. I can't be angry if you've already apologised, now can I?"

Shirou bit his tongue to stop himself from noting that that hadn't stopped her in the past out loud. He got the distinct impression that it wouldn't help his case all that much. Instead, he changed the subject.

"And what about you? Rider said you're fine, but you were in pretty bad shape when I left you."

"I might not have your flair for healing, but I can fix myself up fairly well." Rin replied a tad grouchily.

"I'm more worried about the fact that you collapsed like that. You're sure that the Master didn't manage to place some kind of curse on you?"

"He didn't even know I was there until he was in no state to do pretty much anything." Shirou said, shaking his head.

It took only a few minutes to give the details of what had occurred after he'd left her in the temple, but by the end of it Rin was looking disconcerted. Her hand covered her face as she looked at him both thoughtfully and with some concern.

"So you killed him…" She murmured slowly. The thought seemed to perturb her somewhat, but he couldn't understand why. Rin wasn't the type to relish in murder, but thinking that they could get through the Holy Grail War bloodlessly was, at best, naïve. And more, killing that Master had been a necessity. He'd proven himself a threat. He'd hurt Yukika. He'd hurt Rin. The death he'd received had been too good for him..

"He deserved it." Shirou stated, his voice heated. "You saw what he did to you, to Yukika-"

He bit his tongue but it was too late. Rin crossed her arms, staring at him curiously. "Yukika? Saegusa Yukika?"

Shirou nodded reluctantly and Rin sighed. "Tell me what happened."

So he did.

* * *

><p>There was no blood. Caster didn't know why, but that simple fact disturbed her more than the act that had just occurred.<p>

She watched her new Master rise, his feeding complete, and shivered slightly despite herself. She'd known him for a scant few hours, but the man who went by the name Avenger unnerved her. He projected malice in almost palpable waves, moving through the city like some black beast. His every word seemed under-laid with spite. She wasn't entirely sure what he was either. He moved like a Servant, but he had a body of flesh and blood, something that no Servant could achieve without the Holy Grail.

And then there was the way he fed.

It wasn't unusual for a Servant to devour living humans to strengthen themselves. It was an accepted method of allowing a weak Servant to gather power or boosting a strong one to even greater heights. But normally, it was the soul that was eaten, pulled into the greater existence that was a Servant. A few Servants might supplement this through the draining of blood, but they were an exception as opposed to the rule.

Avenger devoured them whole. He simply dragged people off the street and then seemingly fused them to his entire self. Within seconds there would be little remaining of the hapless individual, their body broken down into prana as it merged with his form and was destroyed. Like the unfortunate businessman currently vanishing into Avenger's flesh.

There was a crack as bone snapped and she realised with horror that a leg was still sticking out of the Master like some wretched growth, even as he turned to face her. The dark-skinned man didn't seem to care, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from the spectacle of the remains of the limb being dragged into his body.

"Surprisingly squeamish, aren't you?" His viciously amused voice broke her gaze and she looked up. He was grinning, baring his teeth as he did so. She shook her head.

"I'm merely bemused. Such a method is…" She hesitated, lacking the right term to describe the feeling without causing offence.

"Undignified? Revolting? Wretched?" Avenger laughed as he caught the expression on her face. "There's no need to hide it, Caster. I know you think me a monster." His grin grew wider. "And you're right."

She didn't refute that. There was no point. The strange Servant seemed to revel in his status as such.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, a curious feeling swelled within her body. Everything seemed to become slightly more real, the feel of her own weight pressing against the ground more solid. It wasn't the first time she'd felt it. Every time Avenger had devoured another she had felt her physical body reform slightly, coming closer to what it had been little more than eight hours ago. An impossibility of course but then, so was her continued existence.

She had been slain by another Servant. That was a simple truth. By all rights she should have been reduced to little more than a mass of energy, one that would return to the Grail and feed the divine artefact with the power it required to complete the ritual. And yet here she was, her mind and soul her own.

Well, _nearly_ her own.

"We're moving on." Avenger said from next to her as he gestured up into the rooftops. "Come."

She gritted her teeth as the weight of his command ran through her and she took to the air, following her Master's bound. It wasn't like a command seal, an absolute command that could not be disobeyed, but it was far more pervasive. Every order, every request that the dark being gave had the weight of a powerful compulsion backing it. Her very soul seemed to follow his whims, driving her to act as he bid. She could resist if need be but it was a hard thing to do, harder than almost anything she'd ever done.

But the most worrying part was that she couldn't figure out how any of this had been done. She counted herself among the finest magi to ever walk the face of the world. Arcane secrets that the magi of this era might spend a lifetime creating a flawed copy of were little more than interesting diversion for her, rarely taking more than a week to master. Given time, she could even comprehend the inner workings of a Noble Phantasm, a feat that few others could claim.

And yet everything from her resurrection, to her restoration, to the invisible chains that bound her and the man- the monster- behind it all, eluded her. It was both frustrating and worrying, a concern that gnawed on her thoughts

Her Master halted upon the roof of a low building. She looked down. Below them, three young men stumbled drunkenly across a lonely road, oblivious to the world around them. Oblivious to the danger above them.

The night's grisly work continued.

* * *

><p>Rin's finger traced the muscles of Shirou's back very slowly, the digit suffused with a slight glow as it travelled across his skin. He'd stripped off his t-shirt so as to provide easier skin contact, simultaneously revealing a fairly well muscled torso. She didn't look at that. It was a little distracting. Instead she focused on the flow of prana running through his body, and the condition of his magic circuits.<p>

After a few further moments she leaned away with a dissatisfied air.

"Nothing." She said, frustration evident in her voice. "You're the same as ever, as far as I can tell."

Physically anyway. She was finding herself increasingly concerned over his mental state.

Yukika's injury explained much, including Shirou's odd mood yesterday. The two of them had been quite close a year ago, breaking into an easy banter whenever they met. Even after Shirou had left the track club they'd remained in contact. For Shirou to be upset over her injury was natural. But there were still things that worried her. Primarily the fact that Shirou had killed someone.

It wasn't entirely unexpected. They were Masters after all, which meant that 'Kill or be killed' had never rung so true. That Shirou had taken a chance to end the life of someone who obviously cared for nothing but victory, no matter the cost, wasn't so shocking.

No, what was worrying was that he didn't seem to care that he'd done just that. If anything, he seemed satisfied, _proud_ of what he'd done. His description of his familiars tearing into the Master had been laden with more savage enjoyment and bloodlust than she found herself comfortable with. His face had practically lit up when he talked about the final blade stroke that had ended the magi's life.

She'd always known that Shirou was… odd. His obsession with dangerous plants and animals, his blatant disregard for many of the codes and practices of the Association, those… things he called his familiars…

They were all things she'd come to terms with. But the idea that he could kill without hesitation, without even a moment's regret and even worse, with enjoyment of the act itself was uncomfortable. To say the least.

"Pity." Shirou said, oblivious to the thoughts running through her head. "I really was hoping that you could find something I couldn't."

"Well, I can't." Rin repeated. "Are you sure you didn't do it yourself?"

Shirou shook his head. "I was unconscious, Rin. And I had a foot of metal embedded in my lungs. That's not the sort of thing you sleep off."

She rubbed her brow. When it came to healing, Shirou was definitely the more qualified between them, but general arcane knowledge was where she excelled. Even so, she didn't know where to start. If something was affecting him severely enough to cause both regeneration and, as Shirou seemed to suspect, black outs, then there should have been signs. Foreign prana, physical changes or alterations; anything would have been enough to at least begin research.

But there was nothing. Or (and this was the more disturbing option) whatever was behind it was hiding from them.

"If I'd been there when it happened then maybe I could take a guess." Rin said after a moment's further thought. "But unless we inflicted a similar injury on you-"

She stopped at the expression on Shirou's face. Almost as one, their eyes moved to the bread knife laying on the living room table.

"Don't even think about it." Rin warned, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"Rin." Shirou began, voice level. "This is important."

"I don't care." Rin's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to watch you stab yourself to prove a point."

"It's not to prove a point." A little heat was beginning to bleed into his voice too. "Rin, I can't just let this go."

She recognised the look in his eyes. That excitement, that feverish joy as he pursued something unknown. She'd seen it in his eyes when he spoke of the Holy Grail War, or of his latest creation. At this point stopping him was impossible. In that way, he was the perfect magus. Curiosity, desire for knowledge, drove him like a whip at his back. Just like him to pick the most aggravating trait possible. She sighed.

"Alright, let's try something else." She wasn't entirely sure what, but anything that kept him away from the knife was a good start.

Slowly, Shirou nodded. "I've got an idea. Follow me."

He stood and walked out into the jungle that was the church courtyard. Rin followed cautiously, noticing Assassin and Rider trailing after them.

Shirou stopped just shy of his workshop. Around him dozens of beautiful, flowering plants bloomed, vivid purple petals that caught and held the eye. Rin had little doubt that they were all hideously poisonous. He nodded at her.

"Watch closely." Shirou said calmly. "Analysis start."

Rin released a sigh of relief. So his plan was to work magecraft, perhaps in the hope that she might catch something odd in his prana. She supposed that if anyone could, then it was her. No-one was more familiar with his particular brand of magic after all.

The prana within his body surged slightly as he spoke the aria and Shirou looked at her. She shook her head. Nothing yet. "Maybe I should be touching you?" She suggested. "I can't feel your prana as accurately from this distance."

Shirou paused as considered that. "We'll try that in a second. But some of the magecraft I'm about to try is a little dangerous. You shouldn't get too close."

Rin found herself quite concerned about the words 'a little dangerous'. Shirou considered the huge numbers of incredibly dangerous plants in his garden to be an 'exotic splendour'. Something he thought dangerous probably needed more than a few metres distance to avoid.

"The body is a tapestry."

Rin scrunched up her face in distaste as Shirou's hands twisted into claws. This was one of the first spells Shirou had actively developed for his brand of magecraft but she'd never liked it. It was entirely reversible, but modifying a human body to that level wasn't something she really approved of. For one thing, the transformation was quite unpleasant to watch as bone and muscles grew and reformed.

Even so, she watched carefully, stretching her senses out. His circuits were the same as ever and no foreign influence impeded or enhanced his magecraft. She shook her head again.

"I'm not getting anything, Shirou." Rin said. "I don't think this is going to work."

"No." Shirou said, his voice calm and composed. "I think this will work quite well."

With a single movement, he raked the jagged claws across his torso. Blood welled up almost immediately, a small spray lancing out a particularly deep cut. Within the ragged gashes, the bone of his ribs were visible. Shirou seemed entirely unaffected by this, watching the wounds with an expectant expression.

For a second, Rin stood in shock. Then she took off at a run, almost throwing herself at him. Even so, she was overtaken by a blur of motion. Assassin hurtled past her, but ground to a halt, seemingly at a loss of what to do.

She didn't need to do anything.

Rin stared as the blood flow ceased, and the open wounds on Shirou's chest closed at an impossible rate before her very eyes. Flesh merged with flesh seamlessly, leaving not so much a trace of injury. And she could feel it. The huge oppressive mass of prana that even now sealed his skin shut. Even from a distance, it sent chills down her spine.

The blood already lost remained, splattered across his body and the ground surrounding him. Shirou obviously didn't care. He looked at her with a slightly sheepish, yet triumphant grin. "Worked like a charm."

* * *

><p>Shinji yawned. It was the early hours of the morning, before even sunrise, and exhaustion covered his body like a blanket. He'd wandered the city all night, his only companion the hulking figure beside him.<p>

That was probably the worst part.

He examined the Servant out of the corner of his eye as he'd done many times before. The man was huge, easily more than seven feet tall and heavily muscled. His only covering was the metal straps and plates tied and strapped around his body, in methods that suggested that intimidation was their purpose, rather than any form of defence. His veins practically bulged through his ash grey skin, as if there were snakes beneath his flesh. Or worms. Shini snorted in bitter amusement at the thought. Perhaps Sakura did have something in common with the Servant she'd summoned after all.

He felt a rush of guilt at the cruel thought, but buried it. He was the one being used as a sacrificial lamb. He had the right to some pointed digs at his sister, currently safe behind multiple bounded fields.

_Do you? _The thought was like poison through his mind. _Do you really have that right? After what you did?_

Shinji gave a frustrated snarl, throwing his arms in the air. "Alright! I'm sorry! It was in bad taste!"

He immediately regretted speaking as Berserker turned to face him, solemn gray eyes boring into him. "Do not apologise. To show regret is to submit, and to submit is to throw aside ones humanity and become a dog. Allow your rage to fester. Then you will be strong."

Shinji nodded, as if this new information had inspired him to rethink his life. Trying to argue with the Servant was pointless; it just made him repeat the same lines over and over again. It was like talking to a particularly persistent recording.

Well, a recording capable of ripping a tree from the ground like it was a twig, but still. The point stood that the Servant was incredibly annoying. Silence was preferable.

"Master…" Shinji stifled a moan as his Servant continued speaking. He'd gotten him started. Perhaps it was time to call it a night. Or morning rather. At least he'd been called 'Master' this time. Normally, he wasn't entirely sure that his Servant knew who he was talking to. "There is a Servant approaching."

Shinji stiffened, then let out a groan. He was too tired for this. "Where?"

The answer came from a flaming missile, almost faster than he could see, ripping towards him.

Berserker leapt in front of him, a massive blur of muscle and steel, his blade flashing out to intercept.

The explosion hit Shinji hard, bowling him to the ground as a wave of flame blanketed the Heroic Spirit. He turned it into a roll, but it still dazed him. For a moment, he lay still. Then panic hit. If just the shockwave from a half-dozen metres away had been enough to knock him from his feet, what kind of injuries had the Servant sustained, covered by the flame? He had no illusions about what Zouken's reaction to the loss of Sakura's Servant would be. Pulling himself up, he blearily looked over towards the warrior.

The giant was almost untouched. A few burns, almost invisible against his already ash grey flesh, but little else. The composed smile on Berserker's face was almost mocking as he turned towards the source of the attack. The response was three similar projectiles in rapid succession.

The massive blade hissed as it spun through the air. Explosion after explosion shook the air and Shinji's retreat was half a step, half being thrown. He stared. The expression on Berserker's face hadn't changed even with a score of new burns. If anything, he seemed genuinely pleased.

It took Shinji a moment to realise that the barrage had stopped. He followed Berserker's gaze.

In the shadowed light of early morning, with the street lamps already beginning to dim, he couldn't see much. He squinted, and for a moment thought he caught a glimmer of reflected light in the small copse of trees.

"They challenge us. 'Else they would not announce their presence. " Berserker growled. "We must meet this trial. Meet it, and surpass it!"

For a moment, Shinji considered retreat. Fighting in darkness against a sniper uninhibited by such was something he really, really didn't want to do. He still had the Book of the False Attendant, enabling him to command Berserker, even against the Heroic Spirit's will. But what would it solve? He still had to identify the Masters and Servants and Zouken still had ways to compel him to do such, no matter how far he alone ran. Guilt was a weapon pointed as surely at his back as the threat of Zouken's worms.

After a moment, he gave a frustrated snarl. "Let's go, Berserker."

He ran for the tress from which the attack had come. The giant hurtled past him, a serene smile on his face. The battle began in earnest.

-End-


	13. Elimination

**A/N: New Chapter: It's-been-a-while Edition. Seriously though, sorry about that. It's been hectic. Suffice it to say, the fic isn't abandoned or dead and I'm going to get a halfway decent rate of updates now.**

* * *

><p>The ash-skinned giant was a blur as he crossed the space between himself and his distant foe. More of the flaming missiles shot out from the copse of trees at an impossible speed, only to be swept aside by the blade in his hands. The flames from the arrows detonations scorched his flesh, sending pain lancing across his entire body. His smile grew even wider and ever more joyful.<p>

In the few parts of his mind untouched by the madness inherent to his class, or the insanity that had gripped his mortal life, Berserker knew the disadvantage he was at. The enemy was concealed, but knew where he was. His enemy had a weapon capable of wounding him even without a solid hit, and he could not even strike back in return.

This was the conflict he lived for. One where all the odds were against him. One where not a single soul would believe his victory possible…

Such were the battles he had triumphed in again and again.

This time would be no different.

* * *

><p>Shinji dove behind a wall as the Servant overtook him. From what he'd seen, he doubted it would be any more effective than wet paper against the enemy Servant but it granted some peace of mind.<p>

_Like an ostrich sticking its head into the sand_. He thought wryly.

But there wasn't much else he could do. To even think about engaging a Servant in battle was utterly ridiculous. His sister might have the capability to survive a clash like that, but he knew damn well what the result would be if he tried it:

Messy and undeniably fatal.

So logically, all he could do was leave it up to Berserker, one way or another. Between the two of them, (fake) Master and Servant, it was obvious who was the weaker link.

The only way he could even hope to contribute would be if the opposing Master were to reveal themselves, but that was unlikely. It would take a… unique type of person to willingly reveal themselves after planning an ambush like this. The odds of that happening were-

Something tickled the edges of his perception and his thoughts jerked to a stop as instincts kicked in. He threw himself to the ground just as fragments of the wall he'd been hiding behind broke into dust. He rolled back onto his feet, gaze flitting about madly.

Standing in the middle of the street, a good hundred metres from the distant copse and little more than twenty feet from his own position, stood a young woman dressed in blue. Long golden hair fell down her back in ringlets, and an imperious expression adorned her face.

Under different circumstances, he probably would have admired her obviously foreign beauty. Under the current set though, the thoughts running through his mind were of a different sort.

_I am in such **shit**_.

The girl's finger rose up, and that ticking feeling returned. While his own talent for magecraft was essentially non-existent, his instincts for perceiving the magic of others was quite sharp. A skill honed from a lifetime of dwelling in the abode of two powerful magi. From what he could tell, the woman standing opposite him was quite powerful, at least on par with his sister.

In other words, an opponent almost as far out of his league as a Servant.

Shinji threw himself to the side even as a hail of projectiles sprung from her finger, lancing through the night air. The wall was peppered with fresh craters as he took off at a sprint, head lowered to minimise the size of the target the magi could aim for.

Twisting round a corner, he fumbled in his coat until his hands fell on the welcome grip of the Type 54 pistol in his inner pocket.

Obtaining a gun was notoriously difficult in Japan as the Swords and Guns Act was still holding strong. But he had the distinct advantage of a wealthy family, along with several friends that he doubted Sakura would approve of. In truth, he still wasn't entirely sure _why_ he'd bought it. He'd certainly never expected to be fighting in the Grail War and the idea of using it against Zouken was so stupid as to be comical. Most probably, it was nothing more than a token resistance against the dominance his family exerted over his life.

It was rather depressing when he thought about it.

Right now though, the hard grip reassured him so much that he almost felt physically ill. He gently pulled it out and held it with both hands, checking the safety as he did so. He could hear footsteps approaching, the stride of the magi measure and calm, belying a confidence he wished he could share in.

He'd never shot someone before. He'd practiced with the gun less often than he should. Only basic lessons like safe handling of the weapon remained in range of easy recall. And his opponent was a magi of power to rival his sister, or perhaps even Zouken.

"Well," he whispered as a bitter smile crossed his face. "It's worth a shot."

* * *

><p>The archer knocked another arrow with breathtaking speed as the giant lumbered into the trees. He drew it back, his golden armour flexing easily with his practiced movement, and released.<p>

The shot was as accurate as all the previous, directly on course to pierce the Servant's skull. And like the others, it never reached its target.

The grey behemoth's blade lashed out, intercepting the arrow easily. And just as before, the detonation that followed failed to do any more than scratch the Heroic Spirit.

The archer's handsome pale face twisted slightly. Those who'd known him in life would have been uncertain as to whether he was smiling or frowning. In truth, it was a little of both. A challenge was welcome. He was a Hero after all, and any who bore that title relished a chance to test their skills against others of such status. But the other Servant was proving to be far more resilient than he'd expected. At this point, using his Noble Phantasm appeared to be an inevitability if he wished for a swift victory, rather than merely an option.

Berserker's eyes turned in his direction, no doubt following the path of the arrow. Archer jumped back, retreating further into the copse. He didn't trust the early morning gloom to hide him from the enemy Servant. It wasn't stopping himself after all.

Even in mid-leap, drawing, knocking and releasing another arrow was a thing of ease. Before Archer's feet had even alighted upon the next branch, three more bolts of light had struck Berserker. To as little effect as before, admittedly, but they fulfilled their purpose. The ash-skinned giant charged through the undergrowth, shattering branches and whole trees alike in his wild charge.

Archer truly hoped his Master would hurry and end the life of Berserker's soon. Otherwise, he'd be forced to use his Noble Phantasm. And even in the heart of this secluded area, he was under no illusions as to the destruction that would cause. This fragile world of the future that he found himself in was not meant for such forces to be unleashed so casually.

* * *

><p>Caster was feeling better.<p>

It was a simple thing, and yet utterly impossible. Her existence was very nearly as solid as it had been a few hours ago. If anything, she felt better than she had then. A cool breeze played across the exposed skin of her face and she shivered slightly. Even that feeling wasn't unpleasant though. After her earlier brush with death, every reminder of her continued existence seemed precious.

Next to her, perched on the thin railing like some bird of prey, Avenger gazed out over the city. He'd stopped feeding after she'd regained most of her strength, and now seemed content to examine the night cityscape.

"Are you enjoying the view?" She asked quietly, unsure if she even wanted to be heard. She wasn't sure what his reaction to her talking casually to him would be. In fact, she hadn't grasped his personality at all in the handful of hours she'd known him. He seemed to flit between several personas at a whim, sometimes cruel and scathing, sometimes teasing and sometimes businesslike and stoic. It made understanding her new Master quite a challenge.

Avenger's dark-skinned face turned to look at her. There was a moment's silence as he seemed to weigh his reply but finally, he spoke.

"I suppose so. It's quite different from the last time I saw it." A curious expression crossed his face briefly before being buried behind a smirk. "Less rubble, for one thing."

Caster blinked.

"You've seen this city before?" It shouldn't have been a surprise. If any magi desired to be a Master, then visiting the city beforehand would be a sensible move to make. But then, she wasn't sure that her Master was a magi. In fact, she wasn't sure he was even human.

Avenger nodded.

"Some time ago. When I was a combatant in a previous Holy Grail War." He said, his voice calm and matter of fact.

She'd had a suspicion that that was the case. His ability to manipulate her very existence was not something that could be acquired with no prior experience. And she was a Servant, an existence that only appeared in the modern world through a single ritual. The very same one that they were currently competing. No magus could have bent a Servant to their will through theory alone.

More than that though, it confirmed that her Master was not a Heroic Spirit. Servants did not retain the memories of their summoning in previous wars. If Avenger did remember a prior Heaven's Feel, then he was not a Servant. It was as simple as that.

She smiled slightly to herself. Bit by bit, she was unraveling the mystery of the figure in front of her.

"Truly, Master? Which-"

A swish of his hand cut across her and she went silent, partly out of instinct and partly out of the compulsion that gripped her upon that gesture. Avenger's gaze had spun away from her, settling on a distant point in the city below. She tried following his gaze but it was pointless. A Servant she might have been, but she was Caster, not Archer or Lancer. Her eyesight was little better than a normal human's.

"Can you feel that? That presence?" All the calm had vanished from Avenger's voice, replaced with an excited tension. His head whipped round and she nearly flinched from his fierce stare. "Can you?"

Caster stretched out her senses, forcing her magecraft to extend outwards like a net. She could feel the movement of vehicles and hundreds of people. But there was a limit on how far she could reach by her own means. From her throne atop the temple, she could have held the entire city in such a web. Here, now, brought back from the dead less than half a day ago, she could only sense the nearest mile.

"I… cannot, Ma-" She began, only to stop at Avenger's glare.

"Try harder." He said slowly, voice heavy with menace. "Find it."

Caster bit her lip. This was going to be hard. She didn't even know what she was looking for, except that it had driven her Master into a near frenzy.

But she didn't have a choice. The compulsion was settling on her like a familiar cloak and driving her onwards. She forced her senses out further.

For better or for worse, the compulsion actually aided her somewhat, bolstering her in a manner similar to a command seal. For a moment, she once again wondered about the source of this bizarre, unknown magic. She quickly dismissed those thoughts though. She had to focus.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her net extended, taking in a larger area. Caster's breath began to come in pants as the sheer effort required for the magecraft began to take its toll. As a spirit, she technically didn't need to breathe but the motion was instinctive and primal.

"Focus your magic more towards that area." Avenger ordered, pointing towards the spot he'd been staring at.

Caster obeyed. The presence of cars and people around her faded as she focused on the distant patch of terrain that Avenger had pointed out. For a moment, she felt nothing.

And then there was a flare of prana, hot and powerful. The presence of one Servant, and then another, burst into her mind. The two of them were locked in battle amidst a group of trees, each moving nimbly atop them or simply breaking them apart respectively.

"There are two Servants, Master." Caster whispered between gulps of air. "One of them appears to be using flame magecraft of some kind, or perhaps a Noble Phantasm. The other…" She considered the brute strength the other emitted as he broke through stone and wood as if it wasn't there. "…seems to favour more mundane methods of attack."

To her surprise, the tension drained from Avenger's face, to be replaced by something akin to joy.

" I knew it." He said quietly, his smile wide as he shook his head. "This is just too perfect."

Without another word, Avenger kicked off of the building and leapt easily to the next. His destination was clear. The compulsion bid Caster follow.

* * *

><p>The two Servant's were as different as night and day.<p>

Berserker was a storm of muscle and steel, sweeping through the park unstoppably. Debris trailed in his wake, with trees, rocks and undergrowth alike left a broken mess. He was a mass of raw, unbridled power. Subtlety was something for those too weak to crush their foes beneath their heels. It was a compensation that he did not require.

In comparison, his foe barely seemed to touch on the surface of a tree branch before leaping to the next. He was almost like a ghost in the early morning light, ethereal and untouchable.

As the madness of combat encroached ever further on Berserker's thoughts, the last of his rational mind couldn't help but admire the golden archer's skill, even as he grew frustrated with it. This was not the clash of arms that he had desired, and the thrill of hunting this elusive prey was growing stale.

Yet another flaming arrow pierced the gloom, one more in the seemingly unending stream that had assailed him since the battle had begun. The movement of his sword that swatted it from the sky like a fly was practiced by this point.

Berserker stopped and glared at the last place he had glimpsed Archer. This close to each other, it was impossible to pinpoint the precise location of the nimble servant. The presence was simply too strong, surrounding him entirely.

"Is this all you possess, craven worm?" The roar that burst out of his throat shook the forest. "Is this the extent of your power?"

As the reverberations of his voice died away, the forest was silent. Berserker waited for his enemy's response, the giant caught a rare moment of lucidity and stillness.

Archer's reply was half a dozen arrows, launched almost in tandem.

Berserker's sword struck four from the sky, but the remaining projectiles smashed into him. The force of the detonations against his skin ripped chunks of flesh from his body and a pained roar ripped from his throat as he charged into the trees once more.

* * *

><p>Shinji spun round the corner in a single movement, bringing the gun gripped in both hands up as he did so.<p>

The road was utterly empty.

Shinji's mind fell into a whirl as he contemplated that. Had the Master retreated? He snorted at the thought. Doubtful. She'd had him on the ropes. Why would she pull back?

So if she hadn't run away, then she was obviously hiding. But where? That dress, high quality as it no doubt was, wasn't exactly conducive to stealth. And cover was pretty sparse on the road, unless she could squeeze herself behind a lamppost. He'd only managed to hide himself temporarily by jumping around the wall…

His eyes shot open. The wall. The relatively small, easily scaleable wall.

_Oh shit._

Even as he spun round again, an impact ploughed into the side of his head and threw him to the ground. His teeth cracked off of the tarmac and a dull shock ran through his skull. He lay there on his front, entirely dazed until a foot slammed down on his right hand, forcing him to release the pistol he'd kept a death grip on through his fall.

"Stay down." The command came from a feminine voice, cold and haughty. Her Japanese had a slight accent. Definitely foreign then. "Struggle, and you'll find my mercy coming to an abrupt end."

The ringing in Shinji's head was subsiding, to be replaced with a sharper pain from his wrist. He wasn't exactly pinned, but it was clear enough that his captor could end his life in a moment if the whim struck her. He stayed still.

"A wise decision." There was a definite hint of satisfaction in the voice now. "Now, be still. This will only take a moment."

There was a rustle of motion, as the girl crouched down next to him, her foot still firmly placed on his arm. He felt his right hand gripped tight and then turned over. A second later, his left hand was also inspected. For a moment, Shinji blinked in confusion. And then the realisation struck him. She was searching for his command seals. The command seals he didn't have.

There was a dissatisfied click of the tongue from above him as the Master obviously came to the same conclusion.

"Where are they?" She said, her voice harsh and commanding.

Shinji remained silent, mind racing. If he told her about the book hidden in the back of his trousers, then he had a chance of getting out of this alive. She might kill him after taking it, but she'd certainly kill him if he didn't tell her about it.

But what then? If he returned to the mansion without the Book of the False Attendant, Zouken would be beyond furious. While the artefact could be destroyed remotely (and he had no doubt that Zouken had taken steps to ensure that that could be done swiftly), there was still a chance that it could be used against Berserker in the brief time the opposing Master might possess it. She might even be able to gleam some insight into the Matou magecraft from studying it. Even if by some miracle Zouken didn't kill him, he'd be even more of a pariah in his own house than he was now.

His thoughts were broken by a surge of fresh pain from his wrist, as the Master ground her heel into his flesh.

"I said, where are they?" There wasn't a hint of mercy in that voice. This woman didn't care what losing here would mean for him. And why should she? She no doubt had her own problems, her own dreams that only the Grail could fulfill. The fact that she hadn't killed him already was mercy aplenty for the Holy Grail War.

Shinji wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. He shouldn't have been here. He hadn't _wanted_ to be here. This wasn't his fight. This-

His fingers brushed against something cold and hard.

Almost unbelievingly, Shinji's eyes crept to his right hand. The Type 54 was still laying there, barely a few inches away from his hand. While the Master had forced him to release it, she hadn't bothered to kick it away. Or perhaps it hadn't even occurred to her to do that. Perhaps this magi, for all her talents, wasn't any more of an experienced fighter than he was.

The childish resentment of the unfairness of life from a moment ago hardened, becoming something more useable.

Rage.

His right hand was being held down. He couldn't move it. His left, however, was still perfectly mobile. If he twisted, he might be able to grab the gun and fire before she'd have a chance to react. He could kill her.

The hesitation that had gripped him just a few moments ago was gone, washed away by bitterness or rage or hate or the sheer need to survive. He didn't care. Because now…

Now he had a chance.

With a pained roar, he twisted, his left handing shooting out to grasp the gun. The sudden shift in his weight made the girl stumble off of him and he seized the opportunity. His fingers slipped around the cool metal and he turned, aiming down the sights at her.

He pulled the trigger violently, even as a slim foot smashed the weapon from his grip.

A little too late.

There was a spray of blood as the bullet slammed into her shoulder, throwing her back onto the ground. Shinji leapt at her. He wasn't thinking anymore. He wasn't planning anymore. His face was aching, his right and left hands felt like they were broken and fatigue was sinking its claws into him. All he had left was instinct.

Punch.

Grab.

Kick.

A fist slammed into the side of his head, but he ignored it, driving an elbow into her stomach in response. His face was level with her wounded shoulder. His mouth opened, baring his teeth.

Bite.

A scream of pain ripped from her mouth as he worried her wound, her coppery tasting blood filling up his mouth. He wanted to gag, but the survival instinct would let him.

Bite.

An elbow smacked into his jaw. He ignored it.

Bite.

A fist drove into the soft flesh around his kidney. He ignored it.

Bite.

Then one of her nails cut into the skin near his eye and he drew back reflexively, blood leaking into his eye. The Master must have been waiting for that as twin fists hammered into his chest, knocking him off of her with surprising force. He rolled as he fell, pulling himself to his feet as fast as his tired muscles would allow. The girl was already standing with a finger levelled at him. No. Aimed at him.

In a panic, he tried to throw himself to the side but his muscles refused to move. The familiar feeling of being overpowered by a force he couldn't hope to oppose seized him. Magecraft. She'd caught him in her magecraft. More than that, apart from the bullet wound in her shoulder she was essentially unhurt. Even that seemed to be bleeding less than it should. He wanted to slap himself. Of course her body was Reinforced. His attack's had been little more effective than a child beating on a wall. In comparison, his own body felt like it'd been beaten by a hammer. The wounds he'd ignored in the depths of his rage now felt almost agonising.

He gritted his teeth. He wouldn't whine about it being unfair. He'd done that enough earlier. No, what he wanted more than anything else right now was the chance to spit in her eye even as she killed him.

He glared at her, waiting for a spell to finish him off. She didn't move. She didn't say anything either. She just stood there, finger raised. Shinji tried to frown, even as his frozen body refused. What was she waiting for? Why wasn't she-?

"Now, now children." A voice came from behind him, cool, feminine and amused. "Play nice."

A figure moved into view next to him. A woman, cloaked in a dark purple garment that blended well into the dim light. Beneath her cowl, a smirk was playing across her face as her gaze moved between them. Despite her slight appearance, there was an obvious sense of power about her, of someone far beyond himself, or even the Master opposite him.

Ah. He'd made a mistake then. It wasn't the Master's magecraft that had bound him. It was this woman's. And his erstwhile enemy was in the exact same situation as him.

For some reason, that made this situation somewhat more bearable.

* * *

><p>Archer blinked in surprise as a surge of pain shot through the mental link that he and his Master shared. Someone, or something, had just hurt Luvia badly. His gaze flicked to the behemoth, still lumbering through the park. Wounds dotted his flesh, but nothing significant enough to slow the giant down. His resilience was staggering. There was simply no way that his arrows alone would end Berserker's life in any reasonable length of time.<p>

And he was entirely out of time. The conclusion was simple. He had to use his Noble Phantasm.

He closed his eyes, whispering the words of a prayer of forgiveness under his breath. It was not enough, of course. People were going to die. People who had nothing to do with this war and who should have never have been touched by it. A single prayer could not atone for what he was about to do.

His legs muscles tensed and then straightened, propelling him into the air. His bow was gripped tightly in his right hand as he drew it up, aiming at Berserker. The giant had turned to look at him, obviously seeing his silhouette in the dull light. Too little. Too late.

He opened his mouth, the name of his Noble Phantasm already on the tip of his tongue, when his instincts screamed a warning. He spun in mid-air, raising right arm into a guard position even as he did so.

The screeching sound of jagged steel scraping against something it could not cut pierced his ears and his gaze locked with that of his assailant. Fierce gold eyes met his, shining with excitement.

"Hey there." Avenger said, a wide grin playing across his face.

A foot slammed into the side of Archer's golden armour and the sheer force of the blow sending him slamming back into the earth below. He rolled back onto his feet as he landed, mostly unhurt from both the fall and kick. A scant few metres from him, his newfound foe landed nimbly on the branch, resembling nothing so much as a giant bat in the murky light.

Archer paused. There was a tension in the air, but his foe seemed content to merely watch him rather than continuing the attack. That grin remained ever constant on his face, like a child that had found a missing toy.

"Who are you?" Archer asked. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Just a wandering hero, seeking to bring peace to the world." Avenger stopped and then suddenly snorted in amusement. "I kid, I kid. Servant Avenger at your service."

He dipped into a low bow, mockery clear in every motion.

Archer frowned. Servant Avenger? To his knowledge, no such class existed in the Holy Grail War. More than that, his opponent didn't have a Servant's presence. Indeed, the self-titled 'Avenger' felt like nothing more than a normal human. Though normal humans couldn't jump forty feet in the air and kick with enough force to shatter stone.

A frustrated roar broke his chain of though and for the briefest moment, Archer let his eyes flick back to Berserker. The distant giant had stopped his charge and was turning frantically.

"Coward!" Berserker screamed. The steel blade hummed through the air as the Servant vented his newfound rage. "Cease your hiding and fight! Or have you fled? Coward!"

Yet another frown creased Archer face. Hiding? The trees and gloom might obscure him from Berserker's sight but the giant should have been able to at least sense his general direction.

Suddenly, the giant went still, before charging back into the copse with a triumphant battle cry.

"Well, at least the sideshow won't be bothering us." Avenger said, seemingly amused at the display. "We can have a nice chat, maybe get the tea cosies out and have a picnic…"

"What have you done?" Archer asked quietly, his grip on the bow tightening. Somehow, it appeared that this Servant had disguised not only his own presence (if he was indeed a Servant) but Archer's too. That was a feat impossible for even the Assassin class to duplicate.

"I've just given us some privacy." Avenger replied. "We've got so much to talk about-"

"Do I know you?" Archer cut across Avenger's drawl, his tone composed. For the briefest moment, surprise played across Avenger's face before being buried under the relaxed smile.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I cannot see any reason for one whom I do not know to hate me as you do." Archer said calmly.

It was almost painfully obvious, even in the incredibly brief time since they'd met. Avenger's tone, his stance, his gestures… There was more than just a manic lust for combat in them. There was a genuine hate, a desire to repay some past grudge. Perhaps Avenger was a fitting name.

Avenger's face went blank. For a second, the tattooed man seemed genuinely shocked before giving a small, forced laugh.

"I see. I almost forgot about that." Avenger murmured, seemingly as much to himself as Archer. "That perception is the exact same as it was then…"

The blank expression looked up.

"Yes." Avenger said, all amusement gone from his voice. "We've met before, Karna."

The tension rose a notch. And Archer leveled the bow. Avenger was dangerous. It didn't matter whether he was a Servant or not. He knew his name, his identity. And he knew whom he was facing and what Archer was capable of. More importantly, he was standing between Archer and his Master. There hadn't been any further sense of distress from Luvia, but Berserker's absence was worrying. The giant hadn't seemed to be heading back towards the street where Luvia was ambushing the other Master but a Servant could cross such a short distance in seconds if they were unobstructed. He had even less time that before.

"I don't recall that meeting." Archer stated, shifting his stance slightly. "And I don't have the time for you to remind me. Move."

"You wouldn't." Avenger said. Suddenly, two blades resembling nothing so much as giant talons appeared in his grip. "It was a long time ago and I… wasn't what I am now."

He brought the weapons up, raising them into a guard position.

"And no. I don't think I will." He cocked his head slightly. "In fact, fuck you."

Avenger leapt forwards in a blur of motion, sword breakers reaching out like claws to tear at Archer's flesh. He was little more than a shadow, nearly invisible and impossibly fast.

And yet far too slow.

Archer leapt back, easily firing two arrows near simultaneously. Avenger snarled, his blades leaping to intercept the missiles.

The flaming bolts crashed into the swords and detonated, releasing a wave of fire that obscured his form within an inferno. The concealment of the flame didn't so much as slow Archer down. A hail of shots leapt from his bow, each one perfectly aimed.

Yet another arrow smashed into Avenger's sword and with a tortured scream, the weapon all but shattered. Its twin met a similar fate with the next shot. He took a step forward, only to be driven back by the force of the barrage.

His flesh burnt. A shot took off his arm and another took his leg. An arrow pierced his chest, and the detonation tore chunks of muscle and bone from his body. He crumbled to the ground, only for two arrows to methodically take his remaining limbs.

The barrage ceased.

Archer approached the fallen Servant and gazed down at the charred body. A single hate filled eye stared back up at him, the other destroyed by the flames.

"Who are you?" Archer asked, a note of pity leaking into his voice despite himself.

"You've got time to ask that now?" Avenger said, his voice little more than a croak emerging from the ruin of his face.

The golden-armoured servant nodded. "At the least, you deserve to be heard out before you die. Tell me: Why do you hate me? What did I do? When did we last meet?"

"Because you're an arrogant asshole. You acted like an arrogant asshole. And we met somewhere where you were being an arrogant asshole." Avenger paused. "Oh. And **Verg Avesta**."

Archer crumbled to the ground like a puppet who's strings had been cut, a pained gasp tearing itself from his lips. Pain blossomed his entire body, impossibly intense and for a moment his mind went white in shock. His limbs refused to move, even as his shoulders and thighs screamed in agony. Through the agony, it took him a moment to realise something. Despite the blinding pain, his body was unmarred.

"A Noble Phantasm…" He murmured, voice slurred from illusionary wounds. How foolish. To think that a Servant could ever be rendered harmless.

"Yep. Though a pretty shitty one by most standards, I must admit." Avenger's voice had regained it's cheer and Archer turned his head to look at his enemy. His blood ran cold.

Avenger was standing up.

Muscles wound around white bone like some horrible red serpent, even as pink skin grew over it, rapidly darkening to tan. His torso and face were already completely recovered. Avenger smiled at him and winked at him with his newly regenerated eye.

"Didn't expect that, huh?" Avenger said casually. "I don't blame you. Last time we did this, it went much the same way. Except that I didn't get to stand up."

"I-" Karna opened his mouth, only for Avenger to grind his foot into his face.

"Shut up." It left his mouth as a gentle whisper. "I don't care what you have to say. I really don't. I just want you to listen to me, and then die as painfully as possible. Could you do that for me?"

Archer sighed, his breath exiting his body in a pained rattle. "How petty."

Avenger's foot smashed down, and there was a sickening crack as Archer's jaw broke. "There's a good boy."

Even as the blow fell, the pain in Archer's body faded and feeling returned to his limbs. He didn't question it. He ignore the ache in his jaw and shot to his feet, launching a fist at Avenger's gut. His prana raced through his armour, setting it alight.

The flaming blow struck Avenger head on but the tattooed Servant didn't even seem to notice his skin bubbling from the heat. Avenger right hand shot out with horrifying speed, gripping the golden armoured Servant by his throat even as Archer's first sank into his body.

"I really should keep you. I really should. You're far more powerful than Caster is, at the least. But," His hand tightened slightly. "I find that what I truly desire is your death, here and now."

Avenger's hands began to glow softly. Except it wasn't quite a glow. It was illumination itself without the crude medium of light to convey it. Neither the light of a newborn star nor the glimmer of a dying spark could compare. It was ethereal. It was divine.

It was unimaginably painful. A scream ripped from Archer's throat as his body writhed, the phantom pain of Verg Avesta driven aside by newfound unimaginable agony. With a sound like melting wax, his left arm fell away from his body, collapsing into raw prana as it fell. It was a sight repeated across his entire body, his very existence seeming to come undone at the seams. It was violation of his very being, suffering laid across suffering. His control over his prana broke, and the fist still inside Avengers body slipped out nervlessly, the flames extinguished. It soon joined his other arm in fading away.

Words forced themselves from his lips, little more than a whisper.

"Does this…. satisfy… you?"

Avenger smiled, the first truly sincere smile that Archer had seen on his face. "You have _no_ idea."

And then he tightened his grip.

Archer disappeared, his form fading into the dawn light in a deceptively peaceful manner.

For a few moments, Avenger stood still. His hand grasped at empty air and tension leaked from his body.

"And that's that." He murmured quietly, exultation clear in his voice. "I told you I'd get you, you bastard. I survived the Grail for this."

He turned around and walked away, following Berserkers path of destruction.

Best that he not linger too long, no matter how tempting simply relishing in the fulfillment of a long held grudge was. Berserker had no doubt found Caster by now and he'd invested too much in her to see her turned into a pile of prana this early on in the war.

* * *

><p>Shirou nursed his cheek gingerly. Tempting as it was to heal the bruise, he suspected that Rin would just give him another if he did.<p>

"In my defense, it did work." He said, watching his childhood friend carefully. Rin was genuinely angry, more so than she'd been in a while. And she wasn't the only one. Assassin was perched on a chair next to him, alternating between glaring at Rin and watching him like a hawk.

No, the only person in the room seemingly entirely unaffected by the tense mood was Rider, who was making a sandwich.

"Oh? Is that so?" Rin's voice had just a hint of shrillness in it. "I guess I didn't notice, what with you getting blood everywhere!"

The conversation came to a halt with that, the room slipping once more into an uncomfortable silence. Still, Shirou felt excitement racing through his body. It had _worked_. It had been an extreme step, but it had paid off. He had a reproducible result and with that, the first step to puzzling out what was going on in his body.

Now if only Rin would stop glaring knives at him,

"Did you sense anything about my prana?" He asked quietly, half hoping not to be heard.

Rin glared at him a moment longer, then sighed. "A little bit."

She stood up, raising a finger up. Shirou suppressed a grin at the familiar pose. He suspected that Rin would hit him again if he smiled right now.

"While your stunt was fantastically stupid," Rin began. Another glare. "It did allow me to get a read on that prana. To be blunt, it's not natural."

Shirou frowned. Unsettling, but not unexpected. "Alright. Any clue on what it is?"

"Dangerous." Rin said bluntly. "It felt wrong. And very different from your natural Od, so it's definitely foreign to your body. More than that I can't say." She shrugged.

Shirou mulled that over. Technically, they hadn't learnt much. And honestly, he'd have been surprised if they had. Rin had only had a few seconds glimpse of whatever was behind his mystery healing after all. The important part however, was that it wasn't a natural part of his body. That was worrying. Mainly because he had no clue when it could possibly have gotten in.

"Probably not safe to rely on then." He mused. "It might damage my circuits over prolonged use if it's too different from my own prana."

"Shirou," Run said, sighing exasperatedly. "It's not safe to rely on because it seems to require you to nearly die to actually do anything. I think that's the more pressing problem."

"Still, it's a safety net." Shirou responded, standing up. At the back of the room, Rider watched him as she took a bite of the sandwich. "Feel free to help yourself by the way, Rider."

"Oh, I always do." The crimson haired woman smiled. "I don't suppose you've got anything to drink?"

Shirou raised an eyebrow. "By that I assume you don't mean water?"

Rider nodded. "That's right. Something with a little more kick."

"Then there's only the sacramental wine." Shirou said. Rider's expression brightened. "And no. You aren't getting that."

"How stingy…" Rider sighed, taking another bite. "No wonder Rin likes you. Misers, the both of you."

"I don't think this is the issue here." Rin growled from beside them. "I'm a little bit more concerned about your newfound…ability."

"Is it a problem?" Assassin said, her gaze flitting between Rin and Shirou. Shirou blinked in surprise. Assassin was always quiet, but after a brief burst of emotion after his experiment had been utterly silent. This was the first time she'd spoken since Rin had punched him. "It's already saved his life."

"Yes, but we don't know what else it's doing." Rin said in an annoyed tone. "You just don't get consequence free gifts like that in magecraft. It doesn't happen. Someone, or something, shoved that into Shirou's body. And I doubt they did it out of the goodness of their heart."

"It's a given that we have to investigate it." Shirou said, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought. He was looking forward to it. "But I agree with Assassin to an extent. If it wasn't for that prana kicking in when it did, I wouldn't even be here. It's probably safe to assume that it won't purposefully try to hurt me."

"Have you got any proof for that theory?" Rin asked, staring at him. "Or are you just guessing?"

Shirou frowned. Honestly, the evidence he had was fairly insubstantial. It had saved his life twice already, but Rin was right. Logically, there was a decent chance that the purpose of the prana source wasn't entirely beneficial. But he couldn't help but feel that it was safe. He didn't have any proof, but the very idea of that prana damaging him was hard to accept.

He thought back to the feeling of his flesh knitting together. Rin had said that the prana was foreign to his body, but it hadn't felt like that at the time. On the contrary, that power healing his body had been as natural as breathing. His circuits hadn't been damaged by it either, which suggested that they had adapted to it somewhat. Which in turn suggested that he'd had it inside him for a long time. Maybe even before Kotomine had adopted him.

"Not definite proof." He said slowly. "But it just felt… right that it should be there."

Rin stared at him, then frowned. He was surprised when she didn't say anything else. He'd expected a scathing remark about how his 'feeling' was obviously reliable proof.

"Well, I think that's about enough for this morning." Rider cut into the conversation cheerfully, brushing crumbs from her hand as she finished the sandwich. "I think the kids should get some sleep now."

"We've slept enough." Rin said, rubbing her face.

"No, you've been unconscious." Rider chided her, grinning slightly. "As one with plenty of experience in this matter, let me tell you: they aren't the same. Get some sleep. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Shirou had to admit that the idea was tempting. Exhaustion was slowly seeping into his body, the result of a combination of stressful battle and lack of proper sleep. From the look on her face, Rin felt much the same.

"Alright, I think I'll take you up on that offer." He said as he stretched. "What about you, Rin? There's a spare bedroom you could borrow."

Rin hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah. We'll probably get more done on a night's sleep."

"How about you, Assassin?" Shirou asked, turning to face the small Servant.

"If you're going to sleep, I will too." Assassin's reply was instant.

"You sleep?" Rin asked Assassin, voice curious. "Why?"

Assassin looked at Rin, a hint of a smug smile playing across her face. "I enjoy Shirou's presence."

The air went chill.

"Shirou." Rin said.

"Rin." Shirou replied.

"Where does Assassin sleep?" She asked slowly.

"On a futon next to my bed." He answered instantly. There was no way he falling into this trap by answering hesitantly. And he wouldn't tell the truth if it could possibly be avoided.

"Assassin," Rin said, voice ice calm. "Where do you sleep?"

_Oh boy_.

The smugness rolling off of Assassin was practically palpable as she spoke. "In Shirou's bed."

Rin turned to him. "Shirou?"

"We don't do anything, Rin." He said, raising his hands defensively. "It's just…"

He wasn't entirely sure what to say. There'd never been an actual reason. The first time, Assassin had snuck in and he'd been simply too tired to even bother resisting subsequent attempts. He suspected that 'She's really cute' wouldn't be accepted as an excuse.

Rider grinned. "Well, I can believe that. I mean, you two were so shy about just that near kiss."

"Thank you, Rider." Shirou grated out. He honestly liked Rider. He really did. He just wished that she would keep her mouth shut sometimes. The darkening of rin's expression merely reinforced that wish.

Rin crossed her arms. "Shirou, why are you sleeping with Assassin?"

"Why shouldn't he?" Assassin said, her voice quiet and composed.

Rin glared at the Servant. "Because-"

"Are you jealous, Rin?" Rider interrupted with an amused voice. "Do you want me to sleep beside you too?"

Rin whirled on her Servant, who shrugged casually.

"Honestly Rin, it's sensible to keep a Servant as close as possible." Rider's gaze met her Master's. "It's not worth raising a fuss about, is it?"

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before Rin sighed.

"I guess it isn't." She turned to face him. "I'll see you later, Shirou."

Shirou stared at her retreating back. Something had just passed between Rin and Rider, though he couldn't tell what. This behavior was just too uncharacteristic of Rin. For a moment, he considered confronting Rin on it, before stopping. Whatever it was, it could wait. He trusted Rin. If he needed to know, she'd tell him.

"Shirou." Rin had stopped at the door, her back to him. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"It's fine." Shirou replied, surprised once again. It wasn't that Rin never apologised, but it wasn't a common event.

Her head twisted slightly to look him. "I… I don't like to see you hurt."

It was such an obvious statement, yet Shirou felt his throat dry up slightly at her words. There was a deeper meaning to them. He just couldn't quite place it.

"Well, thanks for that." He said, forcing a light-hearted tone into his voice. "But maybe you shouldn't have punched me then."

Rin gave an amused laugh at that. "Good night, Shirou."

"Good night, Rin." He said, smiling slightly.

With Rin gone, only himself, Assassin and Rider remained in the room. He turned to the red-haired pirate.

"Thanks for your support." He watched her carefully as he spoke, trying to read her expression. But she was far better at dissembling than he was reading her, and her cheerful grin was a blank wall.

"Ah, no problem." Rider said, waving a hand dismissively. "We all have our youthful indiscretions."

Shirou laughed slightly, even as Rider continued.

"But Shirou…" The jovial woman's tone was unusually serious as she kept talking. "There's something that you should remember."

Her gaze met his head on and held it.

"The Holy Grail War won't last forever. Neither will we Servants."

Shirou paused at that. The message was simple. The existences known as Servants were not meant to exist on this world. That they were here at all was something like a miracle in and of itself. Eventually, they would fade away. Assassin would fade away. The thought hurt.

He'd known that Servants were a temporary existence. Of course he had. He'd studied the war in depth. He just hadn't thought about it. Maybe he hadn't wanted to. For better or for worse, Assassin was important to him. He wasn't sure exactly how, but she was. The idea of her simply fading away was… unpleasant.

"The Holy Grail War sure is cruel, huh?" The words were less than a whisper, but Rider picked up on them regardless.

"Hah! Start thinking about stuff like that and we'll have to break the sacramental wine out!" She laughed.

"I don't think I need it quite yet." He replied, feeling his mood improve.

Rider gave a pout. "Well, it was worth a shot."

Shirou shook his head amusedly as he turned to leave. "Good night, Rider."

"You too, Shirou-kun!" She called after him.

In the corridor, Shirou paused. Behind him, Assassin stopped and looked up at him curiously. Unbidden, the thoughts of just a few seconds ago rose again. In the dim light, Assassin looked so small and frail that it wouldn't have surprised him if she'd simply faded away then and there.

Unconsciously, his hand sought out and gripped hers as if to hold her fragile form here a few moments longer.

"Shirou?" Assassin asked curiously. He quickly released his grip.

"Oh. Sorry. I wasn't thinking." He mumbled an apology, face flushing.

The Servant shook her head. "No. I liked it."

With that, she grasped his hand firmly and brought it to her cheek. Her skin was cool to the touch and incredibly soft. In his chest, his heart began to beat faster.

"Well," He said, forcing his voice to be steady. "Shall we go to sleep?

She nodded and he gently broke their hands apart. Almost immediately, she grabbed it again. He didn't bother trying to shake her off this time. He didn't have the heart.

Shirou couldn't help but note that his inability to deny her anything seemed to be becoming a recurring occurrence.

* * *

><p>Sitting on the kitchen table, Rider casually threw down a swig of 'borrowed' church sacrament. Honestly, a locked cupboard was not a suitable place to hide such a wonderful brew.<p>

"Well, looks like Shirou-kun managed to ignore my warnings in record time." She murmured, a note of enjoyment in her voice as she considered the scene she'd just spied on. "Rin had best move fast if she wants to claim him."

Despite her levity, worry was beginning to gnaw at the edges of her mind.

The War was speeding up. Caster's death was a sign of that. For now, Shirou could be trusted. And Assassin could be easily manipulated. But the other Masters were an enigma, mysteries that she would have to deal with as they came.

"Guess it's going to come down to luck after all, huh?" As she spoke, she reached in to her pocket and drew out a half-dozen coins. With a casual flick of the wrist, she scattered them on the table. "Suits me fine."

On the table, six coins stood utterly still, resting on their edges.

-End-


	14. Whole

**A/N: So yeah. New update. Sorry about the wait. I really didn't intend for it to take this long to get a new chapter out.**

* * *

><p><em>The city was shrouded in fog as she began her hunt. <em>

_She didn't have a target, nor a clear idea of her own intentions. Even as her bare feet padded along the rough stone of the alleys, she couldn't help but wonder what she was doing._

_But the black snake that writhed within her chest would not let her sit idle, would not let her rest. She needed to make someone hurt. Anyone hurt. It was palpable need, pressing up from within._

_And then, as if by fate's whimsy, she found the perfect prey._

_The street whore in front of her didn't notice her presence, shrouded as it was by fog. Her soft footsteps were silent as she neared, clutching the rusted razor in her hand. Within a few seconds she was standing close enough to the other woman that she could have touched her. If she reached out, she would no doubt even be able to feel the heat from the woman's very body._

_For a moment, newfound hesitation and fear warred with the serpent in her chest. She knew. If she took one more step along this path, then something would change. There would be no going back. She knew that. So why…? _

_Why were her hands already covered in blood?_

_The woman was screaming. The girl's stab had been clumsy and unpractised. But she could only stare at the blood falling onto the coarse stone, onto her hands, onto her clothes. Its colour was muted by the thick mist, but it was still so vivid._

_A blow struck the side of her head and she fell. Above her, the woman clutched a heavy wooden rod, glaring down at her with undisguised rage, pain and fear. For some reason, that gaze hurt more than the rod had._

_The rod fell on her again, cracking against her shoulders painfully. Instinct and the snake became one and she lashed out with the razor, hate and anger fuelling her. The nightwalker fell, clutching at her injured leg and screaming. In a detached part of her mind, the girl wondered why no-one had come at the sound of the screams. Had the fog muted them? Did they think that the woman was being taken by a customer? Or perhaps they simply didn't care?_

_As she crawled atop the fallen prostitute and silenced her screams with another thrust of the blade, the girl considered that it didn't matter. _

_She stared down at the woman's body for a moment longer and then raised her blade up, blood dripping from its edge…._

"_I'm sorry, Mother…"_

_The words slipped quietly from her mouth as she began her grisly work._

* * *

><p>Shirou awoke with a start and stared at the roof.<p>

_Another pleasant dream_, he thought, sarcasm dripping from the words even as they passed through his mind. _Murdering prostitutes was _exactly_ what I wanted to be thinking about when I was sleeping_.

In truth though, he wasn't entirely unhappy. He'd found himself increasingly curious about his Servant's past. And since she was unwilling to divulge it, these dreams of her past memories were his only clue. Of course, murder wasn't the most pleasant subject matter to dream of, but it didn't really matter to him. Those people had been killed long ago. He'd never known them and he couldn't change what had happened to them even if he wanted to. The important thing was figuring out who Assassin was.

He turned to look at the small girl curled up next to him. At some point, she'd managed to grab hold of his arm and was clinging tightly to it. He couldn't help but smile at her.

It was hard to think of the girl beside him as being the same murderer from his dreams. Hard, but not impossible. Even so, he found that didn't care. Whomever she'd killed, no matter how much blood was on her hands…

It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was here, beside him.

He considered that thought. Assassin was important to him. That much was clear. But he didn't know how exactly. He didn't know if he simply considered her an important comrade or cared for her in a deeper manner. He'd never really been that good at understanding his own feelings to begin with and Assassin rendered them a confused mess.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Shirou gently disentangled his arm from Assassin's grasp. It was difficult to prise the limb free without waking her but he eventually managed.

Slowly, he slipped out of the bed and padded over to the door. Opening it, he stepped into the corridor and sighed, rubbing his brow.

He really needed a stroll.

* * *

><p>Ilya blinked as a curious feeling washed over her for the second time that night. There was no pain, only a sense of vertigo and hollowness deep within. The very first time it had happened, she'd instinctively known what had occurred.<p>

A Servant had fallen. But its soul had not made its way to her.

She'd dismissed the idea as absurd, as an impossibility. She was the Lesser Grail. There was no other vessel in the world that could contain the spirit of a Servant.

And yet now the empty feeling had returned, sharper and more vivid than before.

"Ilya?" Saber spoke up from next to her, a concerned tone in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"…I'm fine." Ilya replied, rubbing her eyes wearily. After the first wave of hollowness had passed, she'd found herself filled with a nervous tension that had prevented her from getting any sleep. The last eight hours had been spent wandering around the castle, eventually coming to a halt in the living room.

A merry fire crackled in the fireplace, spreading both light and heat across the room. Ilya found herself staring deep into the flames, thoughts twisting and spiraling. She needed to do something. Check on the location of the souls, if nothing else. A simple solution presented itself and she shook her head subconsciously. Not an option. She wasn't going to force the Dress of Heaven to materialise over this.

She hated that damn dress.

"…Sella." She said after a moment's further thought.

"Mistress?" The maid stepped forward from her spot by the door, bowing as she did so. Ilya frowned.

"It's Ilya. Not Mistress." People kept giving her titles. She hated that. Her father and mother had named her Ilya, and that was what people should call her. Well, technically they'd named her Ilyasviel, but she wouldn't ask people to call her that. It was quite a mouthful after all.

"Of course, Mistress Ilya." Sella responded smoothly, with all the grace of an experienced housekeeper used to a troublesome employer and determined to maintain their propriety. "What did you need?"

Ilya glared at the maid for a moment, then spoke. "Set up the ritual circle of Heaven's Eye."

Sella paused for a second, then nodded. "Of course, Mistress Ilya. But if I might ask… Ah, which one was Heaven's Eye again?"

"Number four, Sella." Leysritt spoke up from the door. "Number three is Earth's Hand and number five is-"

"Yes, I remember now." Sella said sharply, cutting across her sister. A slight blush of embarrassment covered her face. "Though why they have such absurd names, I'm sure I don't know."

"You don't like the names, Sella?" Ilya said calmly. Only someone who knew her well would have noted the hint of ice in her voice. Sella knew her very well.

"Ah…" Sella hesitated. "T-they are perfectly serviceable names."

"I'm glad you think so!" Ilya face broke into a warm smile even as her voice went artic. "Because I spent some time thinking them up."

"And your effort clearly shines through, Mistress Ilya." Sella assured her even as she beat a hasty retreat. "I will set up the circle immediately."

Leysritt watched the retreating back of her sibling for a moment longer, then turned to face Ilya. "I'll see you later, Ilya."

Ilya smiled as Leysritt trotted after Sella. The two other homunculi had been created recently, no more than two years ago. They'd been made to serve and protect her in the War and no more. Even so, they'd become her dearest friends, providing the large mansion in the forest's depth with a warm atmosphere that she hadn't felt since her mother and father's passing.

Which made the fact that she was eventually going to kill them all the more heart wrenching. Ilya gritted her teeth at the thought. She truly hated that dress.

* * *

><p>Avenger grinned as he leapt through the trees. Within his chest, Karna's soul burned hot and bright, scorching his body from within. But that would change soon enough.<p>

Even now, icy tendrils were beginning to creep through the very essence of the fallen spirit, twisting, changing, devouring. The barriers between his own self and the essence of the slain Servant were coming undone. A throbbing resounded through his body as images of a time he'd never seen, a life he'd never lived flashed across his eyes. He was on a great plain, he was on the peak of a mountain, he was facing a storm like no other, weapon gripped tight in hand…

Avenger shook his head to clear the visions and growled savagely. He would not be buried under the memories of a mindless soul. He would not!

As if reacting to his anger, the black tendrils redoubled their pace, burrowing into the heat within his chest. The flame under his skin began to calm, its radiance dwindling to something he could bear. Something he could use.

He cleared the trees with a single bound and his gaze was pulled to the sight of the conflict unfolding below. Caster and Berserker had already begun their battle. The robed woman floated serenely in the air even as she rained bolts of eldritch energy down on the roaring giant.

He frowned. At a glance, the fight seemed horribly lopsided. Even in her unstable state, Caster's flight gave her a huge advantage over the grounded Berserker, allowing her to attack with impunity. The giant meanwhile, was all but helpless, able to do nothing more than endure the barrage as his injuries worsened. Caster's victory was all but assured.

A sigh escaped his lips, tinged with exasperation. Against any other Servant that was. If there was anything that Berserker could do perfectly, it was turning an impossible situation to his favour. The worse the odds, the more glorious the ash giant's victory. Every wound he took simply brought Berserker closer to that.

Avenger alighted on a lamppost, the metal creaking somewhat ominously beneath him and took a deep breath. Karna's soul had been all but subjugated within him, its heat and passion bent to his will.

He raised a hand.

There was a sound of tearing flesh and a bow appeared in his grip. Archer's bow.

Few could have realised that though, as the proud weapon had been warped beyond recognition. The gold finish that had covered it was gone, replaced by black ichor and red veins that throbbed grossly. Even as he held it, the bow pulsed like a living being.

Avenger pulled an arrow from thin air, knocked it and then levelled the weapon at the grey giant. He was a lacklustre archer at best, but accuracy wasn't a requirement of Archer's weapon. The raw destruction it was capable of allowed for considerable leeway in terms of actually _hitting_ the target. As long as you got the general direction right, something was going die in a suitably violent manner.

He opened his mouth to call its name, to unleash its power.

"Brah-"

The word was barely halfway out of his mouth when his torso screamed with pain. He doubled over and the bow slipped from his hands as he stared confusedly at his chest. Within him Archer's soul, dormant only a few seconds ago, was now a blazing furnace of passion and renewed purpose. His control over it was breaking apart and the bow on the ground mirrored that, already beginning to rot away.

Something was terribly wrong.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than hooks dug into his skin, into his muscles and bones. They were looking for something. And the renewed fire of Karna's soul made it quite clear what their target was.

Avenger gritted his teeth at the pain even as his thoughts raced. Not just anyone could manipulate the soul of a true Heroic Spirit. It required either rare power or even rarer privileges. There was only one person involved in the Grail War who could possibly steal Karna's soul from him.

"Einzbern…" He growled. "You bastards!"

The soft, divine glow that had dispatched Karna not moments ago returned. Except this time, Avenger directed its fell light at himself. The tendrils returned, now seeking to devour the spectral hooks that tore at his insides.

"Two can play at this game, puppet!" He grated out before returning his attention to invisible war occurring within his very flesh.

* * *

><p>Ilyasviel paused for a moment as she felt a newfound resistance. It looked like she'd caught the thief's attention. And they weren't willing to hand their prize over without a fight. A warlike grin split her face, looking entirely out of place on her delicate features. Fine with her.<p>

Standing in the centre of a glowing ritual circle, the young girl looked even more fey and ethereal than ever before, wrapped in powerful energies. This was a 'corrective' ritual of her own design, intended to allow the Holy Grail Vessel to claim what was rightfully theirs. That was to say, the souls of the fallen Heroic Spirits. Of course, the original intent of the ritual had been to simply steal the Servants of other Master's before the War even began, but that had proven impossible.

It's core effect was simple: It boosted her connection to the Grail, brought her closer to her nature as the Lesser Grail and so increased the pull she had on the souls of the Heroic Spirits. Given the Grail's current insidious nature, this made it exceedingly dangerous. One wrong move and she'd be nothing more than a puppet of flesh to be moved by the artefact's will.

Or so the theory went. In reality, the Grail seemed almost docile. Its corruption barely even probed at her and it seemed… uninterested in her or what she did. That was unexpected, but not unwelcome. She'd taken advantage of its bizarre nonchalance to track down the missing souls far faster than she otherwise could have.

From the side of the circle, Saber watched with a concerned frown, no doubt all but ready to drag her out of the circle. Ilya fought back a smile. She truly did value the Servant's friendship but she couldn't help but wish that Saber wasn't so overprotective all the time. Or so solemn.

A sudden yanking sensation in her chest pulled her attention back to her struggle. She didn't know how the thief had managed to bind the soul to their will, but they were proving surprisingly capable of keeping hold of it. Not that it would help them in the end, but it was a gold star for effort.

"Sella." Ilya called out calmly. "Do we have a fishing rod?"

There was a moment of silence and then the maid spoke up. "I… believe so. I could find one if you'd like?"

She didn't turn her head round to look, but Ilya could hear the confusion in the maids voice as she responded. She had little doubt that it was mirrored on Sella's face.

"No, don't bother." Ilya responded. "I just thought it'd be nice for ambience."

"Ambience?" Sella asked, sounding even more perplexed. Ilya ignored her, focusing on the distant sensation of the captive soul of the Heroic Spirit.

Ilya's hands rose in front of her and she gripped tightly, like she was holding an invisible rod. She smiled viciously.

"Heave ho!" The words had no sooner left her mouth than she yanked violently at the air as if to pull it towards her.

* * *

><p>Avenger doubled over as the hooks in his chest sunk deep into him, reaching the flame trapped within. Almost as if it had been marshalling its strength for this very moment, the soul burst into its full fiery radiance. Avenger's eyes widened as its heat grew ever greater, its light ever brighter.<p>

"No. No, no, no, no…" He shook his head in growing panic. "Nononononono-!"

The soul was too bright for his flesh to contain any longer. It sought its escape. Through the most expedient route possible.

Avenger burst into flame.

He howled as the fire roared across his flesh. His skin and flesh bubbled away, his bones began to char and he stumbled blindly, eyes already destroyed by the intense heat. For a moment, it seemed like the fire would destroy him utterly within seconds.

And then he began to heal.

Bubbling fat was pushed aside by new growth, splattering the ground. Charred bone splintered off and was replaced in moments. New eyes formed in their sockets, granting Avenger sight in the midst of the inferno. But the fire still roared, destroying his new grown tissue with the same ease it had the previous.

For almost twenty seconds, Avenger stood there, flame and regeneration warring even as he fought to contain the Heroic Spirit. He growled in agonised fury. This was a losing battle. He could endure the pain for as long as need be, but his physical form was not so stable. Not as it was right now, anyway.

"Master!" Caster's voice resounded through the clearing. He turned his head slowly, the continual destruction and recreation of the muscles in his neck making the movement awkward and stiff. The cloaked Servant had descended from the sky, alighting next to him like some overgrown bat. "Are you alright!?"

Avenger fought the urge to slap her down. People asked stupid questions when they were panicking. He knew that from personal experience.

"I'm on… fire, Caster." He grated out with some difficulty. His vocal organs were in an almost liquid state right now, caught between burning to ash and regenerating to perfect health. It lent his voice a strange warbling note. "That's… never alright."

"Of course not." The Servant responded sheepishly. "I'll help y-"

"Do…n't!" Avenger snapped. The Einzbern homunculus didn't seem to have caught onto Caster's presence yet. If she did discover the other Servant, then he didn't trust the binds he'd put on her to hold her together to last against her magical assault. Caster's existence was only slightly less tenuous than Archer's right now. And he couldn't afford to lose her. Not now.

And if Caster tried to directly confront the Vessel's spell then he might as well announce her to the world for all the chance she'd have of staying concealed. He doubted she'd be able to help anyway. As undoubtedly skilled and powerful as magus as she was, the magics he was dealing with were… outside her experience.

A burst of renewed agony from his right arm brought him back from his thoughts and he stared with concern as the limb all but slid off of his body. This form wasn't capable of sufficient regeneration to counteract Archer's flame. Even if it had been, it wouldn't have been a real solution. He couldn't take part in the Grail War if he was on fire the whole time, after all. And the spell was only going to get more persistent. He ground his teeth in frustration. He couldn't hold Karna's soul. He couldn't win against the Lesser Grail.

But perhaps he could dictate the terms of his loss.

He was an unsuitable host for the soul of a Heroic Spirit in his current state. But there was someone who held a claim to it that was perhaps greater than even that of the homunculus. And if he directed the fallen soul to its true vessel…

Avenger grinned. If he could not contain Archer's soul himself then he could at least deny the homunculus her prize.

The ethereal light from his hands flashed once.

* * *

><p>Ilya gave a satisfied nod as she felt the Servant's soul finally pull free from whatever had caged it. Though she doubted there was much of its cage left. Her spell had not been gentle.<p>

She stood still, waiting for the soul to make its inevitable journey towards her.

It didn't.

* * *

><p>Shirou splashed the water in his face, enjoying the cool sensation against his skin. He was, quite frankly, exhausted. And that made it hard to concentrate. His walk through the church grounds had been less effective than he'd hoped at clearing his head.<p>

Staring into the mirror, he couldn't help but smile wryly at himself. The Grail War was everything he'd hoped for and more. New experiences, bountiful mysteries and all the excitement he could desire. He'd just never thought that it would all come at once. There was so much on his mind that it was hard to focus on just one thing.

_Best to think about it about it in the morning_, Shirou thought. He gave his watch a cursory glance and then snorted in amusement. 'Morning' had been about two hours ago. _Or whenever I wake up again anyway._

He turned to leave but then staggered as a feeling of vertigo overtook him. His torso felt uncomfortably hot and his footing felt unsteady. Vague images blurred in front of his eyes, too fast for him to decipher them.

_Not again! _He growled mentally, supporting himself against the wall. Despite his fears though, the moment of unsteadiness and the visions passed quickly, leaving a sensation akin to satisfaction. Shirou felt… whole. As if something he hadn't known had been missing had been returned to him.

Shirou blinked confusedly, then sighed. "Just one more thing to mull over, I suppose."

As he stepped through the doorway to the hallway, he could have sworn that he felt something sharp brush against his skin, like a needle or a hook. But a quick check revealed nothing and he dismissed it with a shrug.

* * *

><p>Ilya was frustrated.<p>

Somehow, someway, whoever had stolen the soul of the fallen Servant that was rightfully hers had managed to hide it away somewhere, just as she thought she had seized it. That should have been impossible, but then, capturing the soul of a Heroic Spirit was also supposed to be impossible.

The soft light that had bathed her only a few moments ago was now a tempest of sound and energy. She was pushing herself now, extending her senses to cover the whole city. It was risky, but the Grail seemed to be no more interested in her than it had been before. That was worrying in its own way, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A momentary twinge on the edges of her perception drew her attention and she spun violently, staring off in the direction of the sensation.

"Gotcha." She raised a hand and the circle shone ever brighter. Reaching out her magic, she gripped around the distant cage. It was surprisingly difficult. Even compared to before, whatever was holding the soul was considerably more durable.

Ilya's lips drew back into a most unladylike snarl and her body shook with the exertion of her efforts. But slowly, ever so slowly, her magecraft slid into place and wrapped around her target.

With a triumphant smirk, Ilya sunk her hooks into it.

The following explosion sent her into the wall.

For a few moments, Ilya lay on the floor, stunned. She was faintly aware of something soft beneath her, but the ringing in her head and lights flashing before her eyes were somewhat distracting.

"-ya!" Whatever had cushioned her impact appeared to still be alive however and rolled out from underneath her. "Ilya! Are you alright!?"

Ilya's eyes blinked rapidly. Turning her head slowly, Saber's concerned visage slid into view.

"I… I think so." She murmured. She slowly pulled herself up, aided by Saber's arm supporting her. As she did, she noted the rather impressive dent in her living room wall. "Did I do that?"

"Technically, I hit it first." Saber replied dryly. "What happened? I've never seen you fail a magecraft so… spectacularly before."

"I didn't fail." Ilya murmured softly, pulling herself to her feet. The ritual circle in the centre of the room was now a crater and everything not nailed down had been thrown haphazardly around the room by the force of the detonation. "Where are Sella and Leysritt?"

"Here, Mistress." Sella responded, stepping forward. Apart from her clothes being somewhat ruffled, the homunculus seemed unhurt. Next to her, Leysritt was in much the same condition, staring curiously at the new hole in the floor.

"It's Ilya." Ilya corrected absentmindedly. She walked toward the crater and stared at it.

She thought back to the moment before the explosion. Just as her magecraft had begun its attack, there had been a feeling of absolute rejection. To the soul of the slain Servant, _she_ had been the interloper, the thief trying to take what was not hers.

But that should have been impossible. She was the Lesser Grail, the right and proper vessel for the Holy Grail War. Magecraft strong enough to enchant a soul into thinking she was anything less didn't exist. Or shouldn't exist.

A thought struck her. A terrifying thought. What if someone else had made another Lesser Grail? Another her? She shook her head violently as if to dismiss the idea by force of will alone. That was just as impossible. The Einzbern hid the secrets of their homunculus creation jealously. The chances of anyone being able to steal them away, let alone attune any creation of theirs to the Grail, were miniscule.

And yet one of those two impossibilities had to be true.

It occured to her that she'd been thinking about the word 'impossible' a lot tonight.

Ilya sighed morosely, sinking down onto a newly tattered sofa. She needed something to distract herself from this mess, so that she could think straight. Maybe breakfast.

At the very least, Saber would like that suggestion.

* * *

><p>The light faded from his hands, and Avenger gave a relieved sigh. That had not been a pleasant experience. The homunculus was as formidable as he'd expected. But at least now Archer's soul was out of her grasp.<p>

It was unfortunate that he'd been forced to give it up though. Its power would have made his confrontation with Berserker easie-

Avenger froze. Berserker.

He spun round violently, even as the giant's roar split the air. The ash-skinned Servant crossed the distance between them in less than second, bisecting Avenger's body with a single swing of that monstrously huge sword.

His torso flew through the air, trailing his insides behind him like some sick flag, before smashing into a tree. His neck snapped from the impact and a dull groan slipped from his mouth. Even during his impromptu flight however, his body had been healing. New leg bones jutted out from his lower half, red muscle crawling over them like a sea of ants. He tried to pull himself to his feet, only to smashed down again.

Berserker released another primal roar as he hammered down on Avenger's prone form with his blade. Each lightning fast slash severed bone and muscles alike, the sheer speed of the blow making up for the blade's dull edge.

With a howl, the giant reached down and plucked the tattooed man from the ground. He lifted the ruined body high, then smashed it into the ground again and again. Blood splattered across the plants as Avenger's helpless body was broken against the stony surface.

"Master!" A hail of eldritch bolts broke the dawn gloom, carving into the flesh of hulking Servant. Berserker gave a pained roar, then turned, his attention captured by Caster's attack.

Avenger didn't waste the opportunity.

"Verg Avesta!" Avenger spat the words from his mouth with all the fury he could muster. Berserker's grip slackened instantly as his very soul screamed in agony and Avenger tumbled to the floor of the copse.

Avenger's limbs were already all but fully healed again, his forced shutdown of his regeneration finally ended. Of course, that meant that Berserker's wounds would soon heal as well, but he had no intention of giving the gian the time he needed to recover. The ethereal light appeared around his hands for the third time that morning. A deep, painful throbbing resounded through his body as it did so, beyond the reach of even his potent self-healing abilities. He frowned. He'd pushed himself too far today. If he had to fight much longer, he'd simply fall apart. This had to be ended soon.

_It's little dull to do the same thing twice in a row_, _but beggars can't be choosers_, Avenger thought viciously. He hurled himself onto Berserker's back and gripped the giants head tightly as the radiance flared. Berserker roared in agony and spun furiously, his arms crashing into Avenger's form. The tattooed man merely gritted his teeth and endured it. While the very fact that the ash-skinned giant could actually endure the magic unmaking his very existence for any time at all was astounding, there was no way that he could do so for long. This fight was already won.

As if the behemoth has heard his thoughts, he stopped moving. His muscles seemed to relax and for a brief instant, the Servant seemed to stagger.

And then he howled.

No. The word 'howl' could not capture the nature of the sound that ripped from the Heroic Spirit's throat. It was beyond the concept of sound. It was more than the simple vibration of matter. It the very essence of destruction itself. The air split, the earth shattered, the clouds parted… The world itself gave way before that howl, that denial of the concept of defeat. The howl of a victor. The Howl of the Wounded Beast.

Avenger's form broke. It was nothing as petty as the destruction visited upon him earlier. He did not merely lose limbs, or have bones broken. His very flesh fragmented and came apart. Bones became dust. Blood became steam. What little remained of him descended like rain upon the copse of trees.

Berserker moved away from the still falling remnants of his fallen foe, setting his sights on the stunned witch no more than a hundred feet from him. Even within his maddened mind, he understood that there was no possibility of Avenger returning from this state. He was dead. That was a simple conclusion to reach.

And yet…

And yet a single broken piece of shredded muscle twitched. And then grew. In but a single second, it had become a heart. By the time that heart beat but once, it was surrounded by a cage of bone and flesh. By the second beat, the cage was concealed by pink, fresh skin. By the third, a man stood and faced the back of the mad giant.

"Where are you going, Berserker?" his voice was quiet, but it resounded throughout the grove easily. "I did not think it in your nature to grant mercy to fallen foes."

Berserker turned slowly. The giant stared down at the newly risen man, and frowned. His figure… was different from the tattooed nemesis that had opposed him. And yet curiously similar. Avenger seemed to realise the source of his confusion.

"Ah." His flesh rippled and darkened. The intricate tattoos returned, winding around his body like snakes. In an instant, the other figure was gone, replaced by the ever-confident Avenger. "Forgive me. It appears that I've overestimated my own abilities once again."

Berserker hesitated. The few remaining vestiges of his sane mind were saying something, telling him to stop, to think. His opponent was unnatural, unlike any other in the Grail War. Perhaps unlike any other in all the world.

The hesitation lasted only the briefest of moments before the giant's primal nature took control once again however. Berserker released another roar and charged.

Avenger avoided his assault, kicking off of the ground and rebounding off of a tree like a pinball to circumvent the raging Servant. He took off at a sprint the moment he'd landed and headed towards Caster.

"Caster!" He shouted. "We're leaving!"

Whether due to compulsion of his words or her own good sense, the cloaked Servant took to the sky instantly. Behind Avenger, Berserker had turned on heel and was pursuing him furiously.

"Coward!" The giant shouted. "Fight me! Show me your power!"

Avenger leapt into the air, ignoring the Servant's angry cries. Caster's slim hand gripped his wrist, drawing him close to her as she took off into the night sky. Beneath him, Berserker dwindled away, eventually passing from sight. Slowly, Avenger felt the tension begin to drain from his body, to be replaced by a painful ache.

Fighting Berserker had been a bad idea. Destroying Archer and repulsing Ilya's magecraft had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. The ash-skinned giants sheer endurance, coupled with his ability to turn his own suffering into a weapon to crush any foe, made him among the most formidable opponents in all the Grail War. The fact that Archer had been handling him so easily was a testament to Karna's power, not Berserker's lack of such.

Frankly, he'd been lucky to escape the situation. And luckier still to have Caster escape with him.

He flicked his gaze at the Servant. With the loss of Karna's soul, the lilac-haired witch was now integral to his plans. More so than any other, perhaps. If she perished too early, then he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

And he'd have to watch the Einzbern homunculus from now on too. If she began searching in earnest, she might well find the actual physical location of Archer's soul. And he would not allow her to lay a hand on Kotomine Shirou.

Even if he had to end her life personally.

* * *

><p>Shirou slipped quietly back into his room. And then blinked. The bed was empty. After a moment, he gave a weary sigh and then called out. "Assassin."<p>

"Yes, Shirou?" He turned. She was standing right behind him, staring calmly up at his face.

"How long have you been following me for?" He asked. He had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer.

"Since you left the room." Assassin responded. Shirou sighed again. Yeah, he'd expected that.

"Guess I was hoping for a bit too much to sneak past you, huh?" He joked idly.

"Yes." Assassin said. She smiled slightly. "…Assassins are somewhat known for their stealth."

"Yeah, I guess so." He said, sitting down on the bed. "Well, it wasn't like I was trying to hide from you anyway. I just didn't want to wake you up."

Assassin was silent for a moment, and then quietly spoke.

"…Shirou, are you alright?"

Shirou gave her a surprised look at the question. "Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?"

"…When you left the room, you wandered the church for a time. You seemed to be thinking about something important… but could not reach a conclusion." Assassin replied after a moment, her voice as quiet and reserved as ever. "I was worried."

"Oh." Shirou said sheepishly. "That."

"That?"

Shirou hesitated. He'd been mulling over this earlier and he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to tell her about his dreams. After a moments thought, he shook his head. Assassin had made her reluctance to share her past with him known. And despite the fact that he didn't know of any way to stop them, his dreams of her past were telling him things that she didn't want him to know. She deserved to know about them, if nothing else.

"I've been having dreams." He began. Assassin's watched him stoically. "Dreams about you. Or more specifically, your past."

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her face took on a panicked expression and she stepped back from him, as if afraid. Her hands were clenched tight. Shirou gritted his teeth at her reaction, but continued on.

"I've been seeing who you were. What you did. How you lived." Shirou closed his eyes. She deserved to know that he knew. "The people you killed."

Assassin's face grew even paler than normal and she shook her head from side to side, as if trying to deny his words. He could see something glistening in the corner of her eye.

"I… don't know who you are yet. But it's only a matter of time until I find out."

Assassin stood frozen. She looked almost like she was ready to flee. It pained him to watch her like that. He didn't want her to be afraid of anything, least of all anything he did or said.

"But, y'know, even when I do found out, nothing will change." He continued. "The way I think about you won't change."

Assassin's gaze rose slightly to meet his. Her eyes were frightened and wet. "…What do you mean?"

"I don't know why you killed." Shirou said. "I don't even know how many you killed. But I know you, Assassin."

He smiled at her. "You had your reasons, and I don't need to know them. Because I trust you. "

The girl in front of him was beginning to shake. "…You… don't hate me?"

Shirou nearly laughed. "Never. That will never happen. There's no way I could hate the cute girl who's been eating me out of house and home." He grinned. "I mean, the nights get cold around here. I need _someone _to keep the bed warm_."_

The next moment, Shirou was almost bowled over by Assassin throwing herself at him. Her slim arms curled tightly around him and she buried her face in his chest, sobbing loudly. He didn't even need to think about his next action. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close.

"You don't have to tell me anything right now, if you don't want to." He said calmly, rubbing her back with slow motions of his hands to comfort her. "I'll wait as long as you want and as long as you need. But you can tell me anything, anytime."

"Shirou… Shirou… Shirou… Shirou!" Assassin sobbed his name over and over as he talked, tightening her grip.

"And whoever you are, I'll accept it." He said gently. "Because to me, you'll always be Assassin."

Assassin gave another sob and pulled even closer to him. He rubbed her back and hair, letting her cry as much as she wanted.

Assassin's sobs continued for almost half an hour before she fell asleep, still tightly clinging to him. Shirou lay on the bed, staring at the early morning light slipping through the curtains.

It was odd to think it, but everything he'd said was true. As much as he wanted to know Assassin's past, as much has he wanted to know more about her and the people she'd slain, he was willing to wait. Her comfort, her happiness, mattered more to him than his curiosity.

And his feelings for her, confusing and nebulous as they were, wouldn't change. No matter who she'd been, Assassin would always be this quiet, gluttonous and affectionate girl to him.

With a yawn, Shirou turned over and slipped into dreamless sleep.

-End-


End file.
